20 years is a long time to live in one little place. We
moved into this house on June 19, 2004. I was 29 years old.
We didn’t pay for a lot of upgrades – it took all we had to
afford to buy a house. We signed paperwork for a price of $129,000. Our
original goal was $100,000 so it was a bit over what we wanted, but we felt we
could handle it.
The house was immense after a small one bedroom apartment (Torrey
Place Apartments). We wondered how we’d ever have enough furniture to fill it. Because it
had linoleum floors (to save money and we wanted to do our own floors), the
house echoed with it’s newness and emptiness.
In 2008, Hannah arrived to this house, fresh from Lackland
Airforce Base. I remember setting her carrier down on the floor, and wanting a
beer. I was so happy to be home and to finally put the nursery to use. Mom and
I had painted the wall in there in large color blocks of orange, purple and
mustard.
We bought a glider chair where I rocked the baby. It was on
the windowsill in the living room where she stood up for the first time, he
sweet chubby legs shaking, her smile so proud of what she’d just done. I didn’t
miss those firsts in her first year. I got to see her sit up, stand, and walk
before I had to go back to work.
Later that year, our friend Mona moved in, and the office
was now converted into a bedroom. Mona was coming down anyway more mornings
than not because I had to be at work at 5 am in San Antonio at my new job. It
made sense for her just to live her.
And it’s a good thing Mona was there, because the little
house and my little heart exploded in chaos and sadness in 2010. I ran away
from my little house with only my baby in the middle of the night. I was so
afraid, but I was more afraid to stay. We hid from that little house for a
while, waiting on the court system to rescue us.
I came home finally, alone at first. My cherished things
broken and shattered on the floor. Ashtrays overflowing, beer cans on the
floor. But in ways it also felt clean – a spirit had lifted and the air felt
light. I could breathe again. I wasn’t afraid.
That’s when I started scrapping and saving to afford the
house payment on my own. When I went to the store I kept a running total in my
head so I wouldn’t get embarrassed at the register about not having enough
money in my account. Every penny mattered. I was determined to hang onto that
house – maybe mostly because I saw a text I wasn’t supposed to see that mocked
my ability to make the house payment.
Hannah got stung by 23 wasps on the playground in the backyard, and Mona put her in an ice path. That's when I learned she's a champion pill swallower - Benadryl at three!
At my kitchen counter, Mona got the news that Josh had
passed, the same day my neighbor who had taken me in on that dark night husband’s
passed. I can still remember that January 2 exactly, like a picture frame frozen
in time. My brother bought Mona a miniature crepe myrtle – I thought I lost it
when I built the pool, but it defiantly has popped out the side of the
concrete.
My neighbor across the way who held my head when I sobbed
after the miscarriage got old and moved away. My other neighbor who secretly
fertilized my tomato plants and tried to straighten my crooked crepe myrtle
also got old and moved away. Dennis, Mary, Mickey, Jermyn, Crystal, Mable,
Avery…. All neighbors who have moved away. But Susie has stayed. And now there’s
Katherine, Paul, Julie, Matt, Otto. So many stories, meals, and drinks gone by.
They say we don’t know our neighbors anymore, but I know mine. So many
Christmas cookies and eggs given away and cups of sugar borrowed.
20 years is a long time. Another failed marriage. Another
cleansing of the house and another clean slate and fresh aura. This one is too
fresh to talk about in depth. Ushering in an era of sobriety. Being blown back
from the bottle after letting God take it. Pouring bottles of liquor down the
sink, cleaning out all the alcohol from everywhere – how the sink smelled like
college that day.
A man coming around to help me with my travel trailer the
week before the great road trip of 2022 to Broadway with Hannah. Walking around
the side of the house, leaning against the brick, and wishing he had a brother.
Only come to find out, he was to be mine. And soon.
A pool! A hot tub! Turquoise countertops! Painting the oak
kitchen cabinets to look old. Patrick has come alongside me to transform this
space for it’s current season.
The pets. Chloe the cat. The cat named Cat with the
prosthetic tail. The beagles from Satan. Lilly and Carmen. The day Lilly ate
the Devil Cat, and how we found her septic in the closet and nursed her back to
health, healing her with honey. The chickens, the chicken coop built by Dad and
Brian, patched by Paul, Hannah’s Dad, a few roofing crews, and now Pat.
Having Hannah’s sweet 16 on the patio – the patio that her
daddy built and Patrick rebuilt. The table cloths of many colors, the lights,
and ELVIS, can you believe it?
Christmases and Easters and Birthdays – sleepovers and tea
parties galore. My brother built a castle in the backyard for one such party
and together we braided 50’ of rope to make Rapunzels hair. That brother also
crashed on our futon for awhile while sorting his life out. My other brother
lived with us awhile here too. And the teenagers… Collyn, that quiet girl. Now
a foreign exchange student.
It’s so much. It’s so rich. I’ve never lived in any one
place for so long, and I love that we have lived here for all of this life. The
memories swirl and flow. I hope I live in this little house until my end – I hope
we build another 40 years of memories within these walls.
