My Old Home

Old RockerFrom my chair at the table I can see all of the dining room and living room.  It’s still dark outside and my house is quiet, only I am awake.  The big beast in the basement clanks and rattles, I hear the water begin to flow through the radiators.

The sign out front says for sale, but we have accepted an offer.  For the time being it feels like living in someone else’s house.  I vacillate between cleaning like a mad woman and letting things go because I know we’re leaving.  I’m not gonna lie; the curtains could use a wash.

I guess I’m happy the showings of the house are done.  That felt more like living in a museum.  Everything needed to be clean and put away, no funny smells or strong food odors.  Although I’m pretty sure what sold it was the fact that the last showing took place the day we were hosting a birthday party.  Dinner was simmering in the oven and homemade brownies and bread cooled on the counter.  I left a note apologizing for the cooking aroma.  Yep, and no guilt, either, I’d do it again.

Now I look around the two rooms at the family photos.  We’ve had so many good times here.  Suddenly I’m melancholy, sad to leave behind our 102-year-old labor of love.

Soon the sky is slightly lightening towards the lake.  The traffic is starting to stack up on the avenue with people rushing off to work.  Upstairs I hear the push-button light switches clicking as the floor creeks over my head.  I recognize the sounds of my caboose starting her day.  The old house pops and moans, feeling her age today.  From the top of the stairs the quiet is shattered, “Mom, food.”  Ah, back to reality.

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One response to this post.

  1. Posted by Jo Mersnick on November 9, 2013 at 8:19 am

    So glad your house is sold, so sad that you will be leaving.

    Reply

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