So Long and Farewell

Good-bye my old house at 37 Miller Street.  You were both a blessing and a curse.  You were the pin on the map where I transitioned from one life to another - a ten year waypoint on my journey.  You were a source of stress and happiness and a lot of memories.

See those shutters?  My dad and I hung those after I bought you in 2001 after renting you for two years.  I remember being on the ladder and dad handling tools to me through the window.  That green star over the door and the railroad lantern light?  Yep, we added that too.

That dented garage door?  That was Lisa who managed to hit the garage door with her car and my car parked inside.  One door, two cars, at one time.

Remember the garage parties?!  Darts, music, dancing?  How about the ghetto fireplace in the backyard.  Is there such a thing as a "ghetto fireplace"?

Or the day the ex-wife moved out taking Samantha with her?  We didn't know it then but that was the day it actually started getting better.

You put a roof over my head - plus a couple of tenants, girlfriends, and animals (not all at the same time).  At one time you held two adults, two part time kids, and five dogs!  And don't forget the mummified squirrel I found in the ash pit in the basement (the poor guy but have been around the chimney and fallen in).

Of course your chimney is gone now.  When you got a new roof this spring we removed the chimney since the fireplace (the one inside the house) is inoperable and the heating system no longer vents through it.  You also put a roof over Lisa's head; the first home we had together as husband and wife.  And then, in 2007, TJ joined us - us being Mommy, Daddy, Poly and Hobie.

And the snow!  I'd shovel a mountain of it into the yard, high enough that Sam could jump off the rail and not get get hurt.  I'd shovel twice a day, maybe twice and a half if the plow came through right after I finished the first time.

We gave you a new kitchen and redid the bathroom.  Pat O'Brien helped on the bathroom, but we got a custom fitter for the tub and shower stall.  It turned out okay for two idiots who didn't know their way around tools.  Lisa repainted and brought a new life to the downstairs.  Drapes, rugs, stair runners.  She made you shine.

I knew every creak and groan in the house, from the doors that stuck to the draft under the front foyer door to the sometimes creepy basement that I had to stoop over in to walk through.

Christmas was always nice in the house but Halloween was the favorite.  We would make you scary - haunted music, lights, fog machine - but not too scary that kids wouldn't come around.

I laughed and cried.  I might have gotten drunk a couple of times too.  Good people came and went - usually through the garage door.

Then we rented you out after we moved to North Carolina.  No one really loved you after that. Certainly not the two families who rented you.  And not me who entrusted you to their care.  Selling you - or the decision to sell you - wasn't easy until this year.  This year I ran out of stamina to stress over you so far away.

You have been sold to a new family.  As of this post you are someone else's property.  A new set of memories will bloom within your walls.

Some people drive by and see an old house.

I knew you as my home.