We've been surrounded by the chaos of packing for weeks and weeks. I've been in a get-it-done mode that doesn't leave much time for mourning the loss of my beloved space. I've decided to write this blog before I unplug my computer. Also, (jump to a random thought) we might be the world's worst packers. Check out the contents of the box I just taped closed.
I've been really thinking about the next owners of this house. I know almost nothing about them, but since I am passing a treasured possession to them, I feel compelled to tell them things. Though these are things they will never really know, I want to write them out. Because that's what I do.
To the next owner of my house.
While it is quite possible you will never read this, I write this to you all the same.
I've been praying for you. I hope you will love these walls the same way we have. They have seen over a million hits by a flying soccer ball. We recently covered the scraped paint on the basement door from countless lay-ups executed there. You'll notice there is also a cat entry hole in the bottom of that same door where two cats passed through for years, then there was just one (remember what it took to install that thing!? See blog post from 2012).
There is a stove in the kitchen I insisted on buying because it had the biggest oven window. It doesn't cook any good food. It dries out all your meat. I blame it for over 600 tasteless meals.
The kitchen sink may look a little battered, but that's because it has rinsed paint brushes and cat food cans, and cleaned out scraped knees and elbows.
The cabinet on the right used to be crammed with sippy cups and plastic bowls. Yesterday it held Flintstone vitamins and coffee mugs.
The basement is perfect for soccer and home to many spiders. You might enjoy the can lights which are a great replacement for protruding lightbulbs that can be repeatedly broken by flying sports equipment.
If you leave the windows open, you can hear the birds. They are wonderful, though they occasionally try to take up residence inside your house (refer to 2015 bird blog).
The stairs are best climbed at a full run. If you pile things on them, they may cause a fall.
Upstairs, the bedroom down the hall on the left saw endless hours of cars, dinosaurs, planets, Legos and army men for years. Then it became mystery books, soccer trophies and brand name clothes cluttering the floor. On the right, that room loves make-believe with tiny pieces in a doll house, caring for plastic babies and a blasting karaoke machine.
The master bath is the right size for setting up camp when you aren't feeling great. You can be the perfect distance from the toilet, as well as close enough to mom and dad.
The laundry room floors may be dingy, but they have greeted us from work and school over 2,000 times. You could say the hardwood floors have character, earned from Matchbox cars, high heels and running cats.
And outside... oh, outside. The yard is the right size for a sprinkler and a family soccer game. The nature has been a labor of love. The two trees on the berm almost killed those who attempted to plant them (reference to this blog post). Every plant - all 50+ of them - was hand-planted (hard work days in the burning sun followed by card games and champagne with the best companions). The lilies last all season. They are hardy. They are beautiful. They have laid on a beloved grave.
The green of these walls have comforted; they have celebrated; they have rung with laughter oh so many times. I hope they bless you, too.
The end.
No comments:
Post a Comment