If home is where the heart is, well, then to my way of thinking (I call it Katie-think), love is where the home is. Especially if you are my home. You are supposed to stay where I put you and not move until I decide that I am okay with that. That’s just the way childhood homes work…at least in my Katie-verse.
My dad said he is going to sell my house in a year or so.
I am not okay with that.
If he sold my house, other people, strange people would live there. And where would I go? When I went home to visit, where would I sleep? I couldn’t imagine someone being all up in my house. I mean, I still call it MY house, for pete’s sake!
My dad is just going to have to change his mind. It’s happened before (him saying he was going to sell the house and then not doing it). So we’re just going to have to hope and pray that he’s in one of his manic moods. Or depressive moods. Or whatever mood it is that equals not selling the house. Because I could buy it, but then I’d have to sell this one and I’m sort of court-ordered to live in Texas if I want to keep the girls, so…um…yeah. Don’t think that will quite work out.
But that’s my house. He can’t sell it. That’s the house that my parents bought when I was a week old. The house that I lived in for twenty-one years (except for college), until I pulled up my roots and moved to Texas to live with The Ex. That’s the house that has a door-jamb marked with various height-markers and names and dates for my siblings and cousins and friends. It’s the house that my brother almost set on fire a time or two. The one that my youngest sibling still lives in. The one is supposed to be there whenever I want it, damnit.
It’s mine and it’s going to have to stay there, with my mum (and sister) inside it until I decide I am ready for them to be somewhere else. I’m just going to have get all sneaky and devious to save it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to round the bend in the road and see this, the brick building that means home is just seconds away, the home that means I am me again.
Happy Love Thursday, everyone. May the home that makes you YOU again always be where you need it!
August 27, 2009 at 12:19 pm |
Ahhh Kate! I know how you feel. It was heartbreaking to me to sell my parent’s home – MY home. To know it wouldn’t be there for me anymore in my hometown even tho I had lived across from YOUR house for 20 years by then. Then I moved my family out of THEIR house to another one. Of course now, I’m out of that house and in limbo for the time being with no real house that feels like home.
Your home is your heart and the people you love – that will never change. You and your siblings are in 4 different places now and you are still family. You always will be even if it isn’t in THAT house. Life is change as much as we hate it sometimes – when you return to New England (no doubt that you will) you will find YOUR home for your daughters to come to that will feel like home to them and the cycle will continue!
Love you – feel a hug!
August 27, 2009 at 9:38 pm |
Oh I know what you mean! I miss holidays being at my mom’s house but I have to remember that she is now living closer to us all and for that, I’m thankful! Again, I know what you mean.. It broke my heart.
Just wanted to let all of you ladies know in blogland that I sooo miss blogging and seeing all the colorful stories of life but I’ve been busy with grad school and it seems to have taken over my life a bit…. I miss all of you…
August 28, 2009 at 10:19 am |
I wanted to let you know that I so sympathize. This is a very difficult thing to go through. Your children will know though, that home is with you…
August 28, 2009 at 11:00 am |
Oh, I hope he decides not to sell. I still sometimes dream about the house I grew up in. My mom sold it the same month that I got married, so I wasn’t really upset. I had other things on my mind.
August 29, 2009 at 10:31 am |
it’s hard to leave “home”…just tuck your children close to your heart. I have a lump in my throat.