It is the last day in my house. Not the house I grew up in. Not a house my parents retired in. My house. The house I bought using every questionable mortgage practice available in 2005. The house that only has my name on the deed and loan. My house.
Even I am getting a bit bored with the wistful musings of the 2013 Sentimental House Tour, but I think today is going to be a rough day (and tomorrow worse) and we have already established I write best when emotional, so HI!
The last house we discussed was important from ages 11 to 24. This house has played a big part in ages 25 to 33. The plan was that I was only supposed to be here for five years. Clearing out at 30 with a fat check of profits (ah, remember the hallucinations of the pre-bubble bursting housing market…), a husband, and a career making millions allowing for a sweet upgrade…in Chicago, Austin, anywhere but here.
Instead, I am three years late. The mortgage is so underwater, we will have to rent it for several years just to break even and my career is not taking me anywhere more interesting than the east side of town. But I do have the perfect husband I dreamed of and a dog that so perfectly completed the package that first summer (much to the roommate’s chagrin.)
Of course today will include a lot of reminiscing. Lots of trees and plants have come or gone. As have the people I’ve shared this house with. This kitchen, where I’m writing this was Noah’s bedroom for the past 8 years and the place where Randy asked me to marry him. The basement went from a dark place perfect for the hell part of a Heaven and Hell birthday party for Miss N to a great office for my grand pursuits. Except for when N was here, the extra bedroom really was always wasted space. I hope we have more houseguests in the new joint.
Technically tonight is my last night in Milwaukee. It may not be Austin, but all I have seen of Shorewood is pretty fantastic. (Sidebar: there are currently signs up in the new neighborhood proclaiming Shorewood high school as the best in the state which got me thinking “I hope they can keep that up at least through the class of 2032.” Sick!!! The earliest fictitious kids would be graduating from high school is 2032. That is SO much further than 19 years in the future, isn’t it??)
I will miss you little house. I won’t miss the unforeseen bills, nor the crazy crime-fighting, racist neighbor. But I will miss the other great people that surround you. The memories of all of your visitors. Our quiet times together, just you and I, and the ghost of the old owner. Sorry for suffocating you under a carpet of Noah hair and Maggie drama. It’s been a trip.
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