Day 70: Decorating = anxiety; memories = happy

A packet of the shingles that adorn my roof were hiding amidst last fall’s leaves.

I got the roof inspected at the Iroquois house today. All is well, except for the damage we already knew about. My stepmom and I lingered around the house after the roofer left; she was seeing it for the first time.

Standing in the living room, I took it all in. Instead of uncontrollable excitement electrifying every cell in my body – which is what I expected after getting a passing grade on the roof – I was overwhelmed with the emptiness surrounding me. The walls are empty. The floors are empty. The rooms are empty. Paint, photos, art, plants, rugs, tables, furniture: so much is needed to fill the space. And I am so not good at this kind of stuff.

On the other hand, that’s all material. I can’t wait to fill the emptiness with life. This is the first house Calin’s fallen in love with in our 90-house search. He gave my cousin Laura a tour yesterday (cute, since she grew up visiting her grandma in this house). He squealed in excitement with every discovery of a hiding spot. He hugged his new four-year-old friend and next-door neighbor, Ari. He told me later we should live here forever. I can’t even begin to imagine what will unfold inside these walls, the stories they will hold, the secrets they will keep, the memories they will display. Which part of the house will Calin love most? Where will his secret escape be? Which parts will be his fondest memories?

For me, most of my memories of growing up revolve around my home. My parents probably hated the unfinished basement, but I loved it; the cement was perfect for rollerskating!

The top landing of our staircase was the perfect spot to “spy” after I was supposed to be in bed. My friend Sara and I kept a Super Duper Snoopers diary and logged clues like: Kara’s mom is slowly turning the page in her book. I’m not sure what mystery we were trying to solve. One time, my cover was blown when I spotted a mouse scampering across the carpet.

I spent many hours hidden away in the attic. Stacks of baby books, photo albums and my mom’s high school yearbooks were like buried treasure.

My brothers and I had five acres of land to roam around. Floating on my back in the swimming pool surrounded by the peaceful still of a moonlit sky while everyone else was sleeping except the bats is a vivid memory. I loved climbing trees; I’d leave boxes of books, notepads and snacks tightly nestled snug in between their branches for a later return. I had wild dreams of turning the adorable baby raccoons into pets, too, but my mom wouldn’t hear of it.

Although I do remember decorating my bedroom, it was finding another girl’s messages scribbled behind the wallpaper we tore down and writing my own that made the experience memorable. She said, “Joe’s a squirrel” and a number of other claims about boys.

So I guess that’s that. Turns out it’s memories that make a home. And decorating the interior will be one part of creating those memories!

Next step: home inspection. Then the excitement can officially begin (I learned my lesson last time)!

After showing me stunts I never knew my four-year old was capable of (hanging upside down from a clothesline), Calin smiled happily for his first new-home photo.