March Forth

There has been a lot of change in the last year.

My brother and his wife bought a house in the great northwest.  After 20 years of our mutual global wanderings we live in the same part of the world for the foreseeable future.  This is novel, and nice.

My niece, Logan Grace, at the house this spring.

My other brother had a baby, the first amongst the four siblings.  She is delightful.

The 35 year-old non-profit I've been working at for 6.5 years was acquired by a much larger (and very different) for profit.  Many jobs, including my own, are changing dramatically and many people I worked very closely with have left or will be leaving.

And today the sale of the home I was born and grew up in is scheduled to close.  My dad has been there for ~40 years and the property is stunning, but 3.5 acres and ongoing maintenance on a 70-year-old home (last remodeled in the 80's) is making less and less sense.

A move has been in the works for a couple of reluctant years and the house has been on the market for nearly a year.  My dad and step-mom bought a new home in September, finally moved to that house in December and signed seller's papers last Thursday.  It has felt like the longest, slowest, hardest move ever.

I spent a couple of hours there last week to say good-bye.  I'm not typically nostalgic or sentimental and was surprised by how emotional it was to be there for the last time ever.

A view of the house from the river.

The last time passing the the school bus stop.
The last time driving down the little loop road with the giant trees.
The last time taking the corner where there used to be a giant puddle before the road was finally repaved.  Neighbor-boy Danny was in my grade and walked through it once when we were in first or second grade, the water coming up to his armpits.
The last time driving by the path I would cut through on my way home, except during the years when the scary wife beater lived there and in the fall when there were too many spiders.
The last time seeing the mailbox where my dad once found an orange kitten (Tyler), who was eventually killed by the scary wife beater's beaten dog.
The last time walking up to the apple trees where my child's swing used to be.  The trees our dog Jessie used to leap up at and grab apples off the lower branches.
The last time walking around the upper garden where my uncle was married, Christopher and I had our rehearsal dinner and my brother and his wife had their rehearsal dinner.  The garden where we planted peas and potatoes, raspberries and blueberries and where we spent the summers playing in a sprinkler, reading books, catching garter snakes and having picnics.

The "new" swing, not the one that used to be under the apple trees.

I said goodbye to the river, the rhododendrons, and the site of our makeshift baseball diamond in the lower field.
I said goodbye to the terraces carved into the hillside almost thirty years ago when we had a Caterpillar out to decimate the fields of blackberry brambles: the sharp slope was perfect for chucking balls or sticks to wear out multiple generations of Labradors.
I said goodbye to the office my dad built, even though it was built right over my chicken coop, putting me, and my booming egg business, out of business.

I spent some time in the upstairs bedroom that looks out over the property and river.  It was cold in winter and hot in summer but it had a lovely little yellow lamp over the bed, a handmade patchwork quilt from some family friend and old, old cardboard-backed wallpaper that was white with pink roses.  It also had a door dented from toddler efforts to defy the tyranny of naps and/or pants.  Hurling my little body at the door with a burning and intense sense of injustice is one of my earliest memories.  I don't remember the reasons but was told once I had been shut in my room due to a refusal to wear pants.  I was told another time it was an effort to enforce a nap.

Me, a few decades ago.

There are many more memories (slumber parties, birthday breakfasts, snow storms, chickenpox) connected with my 35-years at the house (Easter egg hunts, art projects) but I'll stop there for now.

As I only live 30 minutes away I could go back to the house at some point, but it isn't very likely.  It won't be ours anymore and I won't have any connection with the inevitable changes.  Today, drawing inspiration and resolve from the date on our calendars, we march forth to new things.