Friday, August 26, 2011

A House is Just a House

A friend of mine is picking up stakes this weekend after nearly 20 years of living in the same place, same town, same everything.  Well, everything except for her phone service provider, which she changed about a half dozen times, whenever there was a deal.

Actually she's only moving out this weekend...but not actually moving in for another couple of weeks.  So I guess she's just gonna drive around with the moving guys for awhile, giving them wrong directions for as long as she can get away with it.

Hopefully two weeks.

Believe me, if any one could pull that off it's her....

Anyway, I'm sure it has to be a difficult time since the place she's moving from is the place where she raised her kids, created classic holiday cinema and ground beef public service announcements, entertained her friends and pretty much wore the place out.

In addition to picking up stakes, I believe she’s also picking up some chicken, a ½ lb. of baloney and some fresh zucchini squash, but only if it’s on sale.

Hey…moving is hard work and one tends to get hungry.

I tell her how impressed I am by the courage she’s shown; taking a deep breath and plunging into the darkness with nary a light.

Braver than me; braver than most people I know.

It got me thinking about our own move, Z and I, into this house just about 10 years ago to the day.

10 years…already…how fast.

At the time it was our own little plunge into the darkness; but we had each other to help light the way.

Having gone through the experience herself a couple of times before, this friend was also very helpful back then; lending support as well as advice, providing encouragement, voicing approval or caution, whenever it was needed for this and or that.
There were times when I listened...times when I didn't...and times when I wished I did....

So now it’s my turn; I want to return the favor in whatever way I can. She’s going through this all on her own now, though she does have her daughters, two shining stars in their own right, to help light the way.

I remember so clearly, at the time of our own move, when I was down to my last thread of sanity, not to mention my hair, standing in the midst of all the work that needed to be done and all the disruptions inherent in that. All I kept thinking, kept wishing for, was to close my eyes and when I opened them it would be ten years in the future and everything around me would be familiar, comfortable and old. 
Now…here we are; ten years gone by. The wish has come true.

Now I’m wishing by year twenty we’re all still here, still familiar, still comfortable…and decidedly old…or older…ish…preferably with a nice tan and two working knees.

Plus, I’m looking forward to my new Holographic TV with Smell-a-Round-Sound!

When it comes right down to it, the real truth, at least to me, and I hope to you…is whoever said “A House is not a Home” was right.

A house is just a house and it’s never more apparent than on moving day, when it’s emptied of all your stuff, all the things you identify as you.

On moving day it’s just a bunch of empty rooms that can’t even muster a goodbye, let alone a thank you.

The things that are really you are always on board, packed away with all the other important stuff in your own little personal cargo carrier inside.

The laughter of your family and friends at Christmas. The fireworks on the 4th of July. Even the tears from the day you thought was the saddest day of your life…but knew deep down, it probably wasn’t.  

These are just some of the things that make up a home among countless other ethereal possessions.

The memories that are forever and can never be lost or left behind.

A house is just a house…even if it does have central air, which is always desirable.

It’s the people and things you carry in your heart that will always light your way….

That’s your home, that’s your life…no matter how many times you move.

Crap…the kitchen sink is leaking again!

This @*%^&$  HOUSE!

10 years and EVERY-frickin-THING is falling apart!!!!

Where’s Nardi’s number????

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