Musings on Selling Dad’s House

 Goodbye, 1870.  You have been part of the family for so long, it is hard to remember someone else loved you before we did.  For 23 years, you were our house.  We will certainly miss you, 1870.  I will always remember the first time we saw you, when your last family was having mac and cheese at your bright yellow breakfast bar.  Mom and I knew right away you were the house for us. 

 

I will always remember the way Julie and I spent all summer in that crazy above ground pool, and the time Dad came out and jumped in fully clothed, with a cigarette in his mouth.  That was second only to the time Dad decided to patch the hole in your pool liner, and went under the water with the epoxy patch, but the epoxy floated to the surface while Dad was still underwater.  By the time he came up, the epoxy had spread over the whole surface of the pool and Dad looked like an iridescent fairy princess.  For weeks.

 

Some of us fell off your roof, on accident.  Some of our drunk friends jumped off your roof into the pool.  One time, I had friend help me break in by unscrewing your skylight.  To the front porch.  Thank goodness there was another one in the bathroom.  Dad stood on your roof while he watched my prom date load liquor into the trunk of his car, which my date was borrowing.

 

I think we will all remember the first time I made out with a boy in your driveway, thinking you would protect my secret, only to find that the whole family was driving up in time to see both of us fall out of the front seat.  I took care to park across the street after that.

 

I worried Mom a lot while we lived in your four walls.. I was just glad that your walls were so sound proof – it made it much easier to be a teen who broke curfew living in your walls.  There was the time I got home, but stayed outside, to look at the stars with my “friend” I am sure, and then watched Julie come home, go inside and turn off the lights.  She fell asleep immediately, but only after locking me out of the house.  Darn your locks were good.

 

Whether your walls were white, Clinique green, red, or covered with Star Wars wallpaper (with duct tape sunglasses), they sheltered us through many days.  Your roof protected us.  There is no better spot to watch a sunset than your back porch.  Here’s to you, 1870.

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