Last Goodbye

 

In all likelihood, this is the last full day I will ever spend in our house.  

 

Bittersweet is an understatement. I’m smack in the middle of being excited about an unknown future, missing our beautiful home, and being a little upset at myself for allowing us to be house-poor for seven straight years. I’m sure I will fight that demon for a while. I’ve never been one to let the past go, and I hang onto even the slightest mistakes for far too long. But the past can’t be changed, and today I have to say goodbye to something that I have loved dearly for a long time now.  

 

When Kelli and I bought this house, it was our dream home. For me, maybe it was the impossible dream. I grew up in a small town in Ohio where my family owned a 742 square foot home. Until I was 20, semesters in the college dorms notwithstanding, I shared a room with my kid brother (who, I must say, went on to serve our country quite admirably in Iraq), sleeping in a bunk bed that caused me more concussions than any sporting event I’ve ever played. I knew no different.  

 

When I hit 21, I bought my first house. It was the same exact house, 742 square feet, with the only difference being the two bedrooms and one bath were on the left instead of the right. I paid $54,000 for it. When I was 24 I turned that into a rental and bought my second house, one that actually had an upstairs and a basement. It was the first time in my life I ever lived in a house that had a garage. I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. My friends and I started a band and built a studio in the basement, equipped it with Elvis Presley wallpaper border and called it Suspicious Minds Studios. We rocked the place, had great times, laughed, shook buttocks, grilled out at an alarming rate. It was all just vodka and rock shows. We later moved the ‘studio’ to the dining room because, well, what better dining room could a bachelor have? I thought that house was huge, and I felt like I was beginning to blossom quite well into adulthood. I felt successful. 

 

{Fast forward.} When all of the kids were at home, we needed the space. At the same time, there was certainly an element of pride in buying this house. My wife and I are incredibly hard-working people, and I felt like we deserved it. I felt that if we were going to work this hard, day in and day out, then by God we were going to have something to show for it. That’s the American way, right? So we paid top dollar for this place and never looked back. I’ve had neighbors on the same street tell me that our house should be in magazines. Kelli is a gifted designer and has made it beautiful, and we’ve all worked together to make it something incredible. (Pictures just don’t do it justice). But two things happened along the way. I guess you could call them, “Things that make you go Hmmmmm,” moments.  

 

One. This is basically the only home Annabel has ever known. We moved in right after she turned two, so she remembers nothing else. This house has a movie theater in the basement with seats that came from an actual movie theater from the 1940’s. When Annabel was five, one of our older girls got her first apartment and we went to help her move in. I noticed Annabel walking around, checking the place out. I thought she was just staking claim to her own space, knowing how spoiled she was by her older siblings and that, surely, she would have a room of her own there, too. But then she said, “Tawney, where is the movie theater?” Tawney said, “It doesn’t have one, punkin.” Annabel said, “Well, then where do you watch movies?”  

 

I didn’t grow up that way. Hell, I remember when my dad hit the three-digit lotto, won $147 and spent much less than that buying our first VCR. We were in Heaven! It was, I guess, the seed that would later grow into the current “what are we doing” plant.  

 

Two. My grandparents came down from Ohio to visit. My grandfather has been a minister his entire life, so he always needed space for other preachers and their families to stay for when they were in town as visitors. Their house, to me, was enormous. 21 rooms in that sucker. But the one time they came down to visit me, grandpa didn’t greet me with “hello” or “I missed you, son.” He said, “David Lee, this is a mansion!” (Pronounced main-shun in his mid-Kentucky drawl). My reaction was strange. I said, “Nah, grandpa. This is just an ordinary house. You should see some of the houses in the city. They would make this one look like a shack.” And though he paid me no mind at that moment, it was a moment I haven’t forgotten.  

 

But the fact is, I just love this house. We have so many memories here. We’ve always had Easter brunches, and the entire family would get together. The kids in their bright pastels, the adults with their midday Mimosa-induced smiles. We’ve had graduation parties, dinner parties, birthday parties, quiet nights by the fire. I’ve watched the girls gather around to paint nails or braid hair. I’ve watched Braedon grow up into an amazing man. We’ve had some killer Walking Dead binge-watching marathons. My wife and I have danced in the rain in the back yard, danced in our living room, and made Annabel cringe far too many times by making her watch us kiss each other and outwardly let everyone know how in love we still are.

 

Which is what makes all of this ok. I have the woman of my dreams. I have a family that I would lay my life on the line for. And if we ended up living in Lucinda for the rest of our lives, none of that love or any of those emotions would change. Because of that, I know that no matter what happens, we will be fine.  

 

Over the last few days, the focus of what I will miss has shifted. I’m not focused on my man cave or beautiful back yard. I’m going to miss my koi, and I’m going to miss Backpack, the squirrel that we nursed back to life after he fell from his nest and still comes to say hello every day. I’m going to miss the family of deer that come out of the woods and into the back yard. They make me think of my father. I’m going to miss the owls hooting, the falcon that I’ve only seen land on the bridge in our back yard once but that I’ve not since forgotten. I’m going to miss the hiking trails where herons swoop down in an unafraid manner, just to let you know that they’re there. I’m going to miss the cardinals that play in the Japanese Red Maple just outside my office window. They remind me of my father, too. I’ll miss the momma Robin who, for years now, has flown into my closed office window thinking she can get in. She’s the toughest and most persistent momma I’ve ever known. I’m going to miss the neighborhood dogs that their owners walk by our house all the time. I’m going to miss sitting on our porch at night, smoking cigars and drinking wine, and listening to the coyotes howling in the distance. I’m not going to miss going to bed every night and looking at the hole I created in the wall when I collapsed from stress and overworking myself. It’s such a constant reminder of that.  

 

Come to think of it, everything that I will miss is now nature related. It’s amazing how your focus in life can change like that. I’ll miss the nature here, but we are going to live on an organic farm where there will be even more nature around us. That part is exciting, and I can’t wait to live on Idle Acres Farm and see what is next in store for our lives.  

 

But just like books, our lives have chapters, and one is coming to an end today. I’m sure I will cry. I’m sure I will dearly miss our home. I’m sure that I will have my ups and downs when it comes to no longer being here.  

 

But I’m also sure that I will still drive away and let tomorrow have its day.