i talked to my dad yesterday and discovered that he'd up and sold the farm...the house he bought when i was six months old will be home no more as of the last week in june. it's strange, it's unsettling to find out how tied i can become to things of this earth, as well as how stinking sentimental i get sometimes. i think back to two christmases ago, the last time we visited...the last time i'd walk on the brick red dining room floor, the last time i'd do laundry in the basement among my dad's vast (and well organized) tool collection, the last time i'd tuck my kids in for sleep in the upstairs room my parents had painted pink in 1972 for their baby girls. so many memories there, such a deep sense of belonging all over that property. my dad told me that he'd sold it to a family with three little girls of their own, and that made me smile. as i'm losing my sense of balance in what i can now go back to when i'm in michigan, i'm hoping those little girls will grow up climbing the ancient apple tree in the backyard, swinging their legs under the kitchen counter perched on those high stools, sitting on the smooth front porch among the yews, elbows on knees, chins in palms, contemplating plans for that particular summer day...i hope they love that it's only a two block bike ride to the neighborhood park, that the sloping black driveway is fun to shovel in the winter, that they have a root celler and a laundry chute and back closets in the upstairs bedrooms to explore. i wonder if they will dig up my stash of quarters under my old bedroom window.
i hope, as i am losing this for myself, that it will be a house that becomes a home to them. i hope their parents take really good care of the place. and i hope i can stomach staying in a finished basement of a condo surrounded by displaced memorabilia next time i'm in town...