2007-09-28
so long old friend
Right now my parents are signing the papers to hand over the house to the new owner. That house was my parent’s house for 38 years, 51 weeks, 6 days, and 23 hours of my life, exactly.
I went yesterday and took some pictures and cried my way through its empty rooms. I thanked it for being a good house and keeping us safe all those years. I hope the new owner always feels as safe in there as I did.
My favorite part of the house was the stairs. Honestly, the majority of happy memories I have involve that stair case. Some weren’t happy at the time, but looking back now, it’s all good.
I can remember stomping up the stairs and mom making me do it 15 times as punishment.
I can remember falling down them with my cat in my arms. We both crashed into the book case with the encyclopedias in them that was at the bottom of the stairs. He walked away with a smug look on his face like he meant for us to tumble. I don’t recall feeling that way.
I can remember tying strings to our stuffed animals and swinging them from the railing. Though she is long gone, I distinctly remember Judy, my red furred stuffed dog, who was a great flyer, but suffered a permanent head lean due to neck stress.
I remember when my brother and I made paper airplanes and sailed them down to the first floor. I also remember mom making us unfold them and being rather upset that we used most of the ream of brother’s school paper.
I remember learning what all my brothers learned before me; where to step so they didn’t creak when you were sneaking in late.
I remember the last time I walked down them normally, heading out to go line dancing with friends.
I remember the first time going back up them after the crash and seeing my bedroom after many many months.
I remember the first time going back down them after the crash and how scared I was that I would fall.
I remember the first time after the crash that I came down them at a rate reminiscence of how I used to gallop down them all my life.
The banister has always been sturdy. It’s never worn down and it’s always gleamed. It’s endured us hanging from it, clinging to it, leaning on it, and for me, dragging myself up by it.
I will miss this house, but it’s not the house that holds the memories, it’s my mind. For all of it, I am blessed.
