I'm not a mover...
I moved out of my Dad's house which he has lived in since 1976 to Joe's trailer when we married in 1997.
We then moved to our current home in 2000. I have no intentions of moving...ever. It is my home. We have wonderful neighbors. The house isn't a huge castle but it's nice and perfect for our family. We live two minutes from Dad. I live two minutes from work. I've brought 3 children home for the first time here. Every Christmas they've had has been in this home, every birthday, every first day of school, etc. I love this home. It's full of love and we've made many great memories in our almost 10 years here.
My Grandparents old home is up for sale, they moved out in 2002. Yesterday I just stared at the real estate site photo of it. It's only selling for 26,900. It's small and basically they retired there after raising their 4 children on the family farm down the road. It was perfect though and just like my house here I have so many emotions and so many wonderful memories when I think of that house. Staring at that photo I could picture myself looking out the back window at the 8 red blinking TV antennas miles and miles away when I'd spend the night. I can hear the washing machine running in my head on Saturday mornings. I can hear the coffee perking and yeah I smell it too. I remembered riding my bike into that driveway so excited after finally arriving after the 7 mile trek. Years later I'd drive there and Grandpa would always head outside and tinker around with my old clunker car. Joe and I would go and play cards (Euchre) and it was always girls against guys. Grandpa & Joe would usually lose as Grandpa always thought his hand was better than it was. Then we'd wheel out and every time my Grammy would trek out from the dining room to the living room to wave good-bye to us from the big picture window. I'd usually cry a bit after leaving knowing that those special visits wouldn't last forever.
Seeing my Grandparents house I stared at that house for a very long time yesterday. That house was such a solace to me. My childhood wasn't horrible but it was definitely not your nuclear family "Beaver Cleaver" experience. I really can't imagine a tv show that emulates my life growing up but sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. My Grammy was always the same. I'd usually find her sitting at the kitchen table smoking her cigarettes. She was ALWAYS happy to see me and I can still hear her say "Hi Dawn" in the same way. I miss her terribly.
Yesterday I had a fleeting moment of craziness thinking "I should buy that house." The cost would be like a car payment. But then cooler heads prevail and I think otherwise. My brother asked me if I wanted to go by and look in the windows and such and I almost said yes but turned him down. For $27K the previous owners must have just trashed the place. And besides it just wouldn't truly be the same on the inside. It's already odd driving by and not seeing Grandma's little lawn statues and bird feeders and such that she so enjoyed. It's just a house though, someone else will live there and hopefully make great memories there.
I'm not a mover...maybe someday if all three of my children move out to NY or something I'd decide to follow them. I guess it's not really the house, it's what makes the house a home. And I know that's a lame cliche but it's quasi-true.
Oh Home Sweet Home!