MOVING DAY
Do
these chairs go in here, ma’am? What do we do with the table leaf? Mom! Where’s
my deodorant? Babe, where do you want these lamps? Mother, my bed is not where
I want it. Please… can we move it now! The dog got out!
Arrrgggghh! With the movers quickly
asking me questions along with the three grown men in my family and a little
mixed Chihuahua underfoot (also male), it’s enough to drive any woman senseless
AND useless. I flop down on my back with my arms splayed at my sides on my bed which
has been positioned correctly in my
new room although its sheets and blankets are nowhere to be seen. I give up,
momentarily, and reflect on what a tremendous transition we've made.
In 1985 I was a young, newly-married
working girl who made a significant commitment by purchasing an 800-square
foot, three bedroom, one bathroom ranch house. With little furniture and less
money, my husband and I moved into our little abode that, 28 years later, we
would actually find it prudent to sell and bid farewell. Twenty-eight years of alternating
bliss and despair; hopelessness and delight – the roller coaster of life as we
know it all wound together in this home…our home.
Over the years, we purchased
furniture, decorated, added a second story and bathroom, renovated, replaced
the roof and siding (twice!), updated boilers, washers, dryers, dishwashers,
and shabby couches, installed central air conditioning , and forever battled
with a stubborn lawn, 120-foot slope, and even more tenacious greenery and
flowers that remained eternally out of our grasp as ‘manicured.’
But those were just the things we
did TO the house. More impactful was what the house did for us. This is what
caused me pause this moving day. For nearly three decades our family of four
traveled many roads in and out of this house - both scenic and dangerous - all
bringing us back home: Home with new babies and pets; home with new jobs and launched
businesses; home after our own hospitalizations and home from funerals for
family members who died too young. It was also a home that was open for relatives
who needed a place to stay and a very lucky home that was hugged – yes hugged -
by loving neighbors and friends who saw us through our greatest triumphs and
our deepest anguish.
I recall the time our backyard
neighbor called to let me know that my son and his friends were jumping out of
his bedroom window (they were playing fireman) and, as a reliable lookout, he
called again to tell me that that same son and his best friend (next door
neighbor) had climbed to the top of the 50-foot tall pine tree we had planted in
memory of our nephew when it was just two-feet tall. I think fondly of neighborly
traditions such as door-decorating when a baby was born, block parties that
went on for hours, impromptu gatherings just because we met up outside,
neighbors helping neighbors with tree and snow removal, leaf blowing, groceries
and medical crises both big and small. We all had each other’s keys and the
children knew they would never be locked out, anywhere.
Along with children came pets; so
many which passed through our lives and left indelible impressions. One
neighbor would walk his dogs while his two cats marched steadily behind. Our
own cats and dogs staked out their territory and all were respectful of the
other neighbor pets’ turf. We couldn’t say the same for one little deaf cat who
tortured our first dog, a Shepherd/Huskie/Collie mix, who would sit out on our
front lawn attached to a six-foot tether. That cat would sit exactly one foot away
from the fully-extended lead gleefully indifferent to our frustrated dog’s loud
barking. A chewed and battered feral mother cat had litters and litters of
kittens that a responsible neighbor trapped and lovingly delivered to the local
pet shelter. None of us could ever entice Mama Cat inside but several of her
kittens found homes within the small perimeter of their birth in our
neighborhood.
Our house, yard, and deck became an
informal gathering place for our family and friends and our sons’ friends -
sometimes every day after school, camp, or whenever they needed a place to meet.
I doled out more daily snacks than on Halloween when nearly 100
trick-or-treaters made their way to our door. I was fortunate to be able to
work from home.
We neighbors enjoyed each other
through the good times and bad and we all held each other in very high regard.
We were a community that fiercely protected its own. I will miss that terribly.
Reveling in the young ones milestones, we all stood outside when babies were on
their way home for the first time, graduates took pictures in their caps and
gowns, and when limos pulled up for proms and, later, weddings. If an ambulance
arrived, everyone went outside and formed a cocoon around the impacted family.
When one elderly neighbor would fall down, some climbed through her window to
help her to safety. We were unified in love.
And yet like perennials that bloom each
year, my husband and I somehow managed to dust ourselves off and recognize that
our income was not meeting our expenses anymore in this fiercely competitive
economy in a suburb with ever rising taxes and foreclosures and we must rise
again to plan, set goals, and dig a permanent pathway for our children to
follow; young men who are now succeeding in their own right and choose to be
‘home’ with us wherever we go, for now. Today, that home is a rental just three
blocks away from our old sold house. It’s a stepping stone to reach what my
husband and I call paradise – a little enclave near the beach in South Carolina
that is memories and miles away from the New York City area where we have lived
all our lives.
This rental apartment is an
interesting two-story dwelling with a long history of its own. Although it has
known more owners and occupants than our former 28-year home, it has retained a
dignity and character that is calming and serene. It also revealed its cracks
quickly in plumbing, window, and foundation issues and an entirely different structural
past that my husband does not have to
fix because we have a landlord for the first time in over 30 years. It’s enough
to make us a bit giddy.
It started about four years ago
before the massive economic downturn but with the awareness that we wanted and
would need something else financially prudent for our future. In one week, we
had identified and purchased a condo in South Carolina. We spent another week
painting and furnishing the place, spending so much money out of our New
York-based bank account that our credit card was denied at Walmart. It was
awkward yet refreshing to have a bank representative call my cell phone as we
were walking to the parking lot to verify attempted large purchases. It all
began to make sense as I enjoyed the balmy weather, walking at a slower pace
and allowing obliging people to help.
Back at home, we set the long-range
plan in motion. We downsized in earnest, clearing clutter and selling off items
that had become just things. We had the requisite tag sale and donated much to
our local Church. We kept on going by paring down saved items and giving pieces
of ourselves away – namely collectibles and other treasures that we felt would
be enjoyed by family and friends. It makes me happy to think of a certain
painting hanging in a friend’s house or a decorative bowl in another. My
husband took the boys’ memory containers to South Carolina for storage. They
will be there for them when they want and I will, undoubtedly, go through them
once again because I was oohing, ahhing, sighing or crying each time I held a
particularly sentimental item close.
These days, our oldest son follows
generations of family tradition and treks into Manhattan to work and our
younger son continues his college education. Thus, before we set sail for South Carolina on a
permanent basis, we can be snowbirds who are a bit on the younger side and can
help our kids launch successfully. The constant that was our house with its
several refinancings and equity loans held us in good stead. We are proud of
what we have accomplished.
Retired from the FDNY and working
as a school bus driver, we are blessed that my husband has a decent pension and
health benefits. A former public relations and marketing executive, I now am
disabled due to traumatic illnesses that remain chronic. Both of us are
affected by the cold weather – he becoming asthmatic from the horrors of 9/11;
me due to after effects of treatment for Stage 4B cancer, Lupus and
Fibromyalgia. Both of us will enjoy much better health in a warmer climate and
fare well financially if we keep following our plan. Plus, we've already made a
lot of friends there including a number of similarly transplanted New Yorkers. I
feel largely unencumbered already.
A sweet, young working couple
bought our house, about the same ages we were when we first purchased. It is
wonderful to see that the circle is, indeed, round. Perhaps they may follow in
our footsteps making memories that will nourish their souls for a lifetime.
Perhaps this home will be a stepping stone for them as they move on to other
opportunities. I will miss many things
about our house and I am so very grateful that we have been able to watch its
transfer into good hands.
The day before the closing, I
visited the now clean and empty house one last time. I sat in every single
room, spending extra time in the ‘nursery’ where my boys laid in their cribs.
It is also the room where their height measurements are recorded in increments
in pencil on the inside closet molding. (It’s
okay if the new owners erase them. We took pictures.) I blubbered and
sobbed and thought of many of my children’s milestones. I pondered a long time
in the room where I spent a year being treated for cancer, barely being able to
move, in tremendous pain, always nauseous and completely reliant on my spouse,
family, neighbors and friends. I recalled one particular moment when it started
to rain and, since the head of my bed was pushed up against the open window, I
let the warm droplets fall all over my face, chest, arms and hands. The tears
flowed freely.
In my high school yearbook (which I
tossed when de-cluttering) I selected my senior quote from a popular Cat
Stevens song: “So on and on we go; the
seconds tick the time out; there’s so much left to know; and I’m on the road to
find out.” So, when I really sit and think about it, nothing’s changed at
all. I’m still on that road exploring and finding new places, people and things
and, when I look back, what a wonderful ride it’s been.
