Bittersweet

 Today an offer was accepted on the home where I spent my teen years. I had to be done as no one lives there anymore. All of us kids are scattered to the four winds. I have one sister who still lives only a mile away, but she has her own home to worry about. My brother lives the farthest south, my youngest sister live the farthest west, and I live in the foothills. 

I remember my Dad and Grampa building it. When they let me off the bus after school, my grandparents would be there. Gram always had a snack and Grampa would be laying block for the foundation. For the first two weeks of my 7th grade year, we live in a local motel. Mom or Dad dropped me off for school and I caught a bus to the property after. We moved a mobile home onto the property in front of the construction zone. 

I remember Dad walking off a board for a bismark donut one day and scraping up his back. Another day he was carrying tar paper and missed a step also tumbling to the foundation. There was also the day he off balanced himself on the ladder and it came down. How he didn't kill himself I will never understand.

We moved into the house in October the year I was in 8th grade. By then we had all learned to mix morter, string a brick line, and had laid a row of bricks on the back of the house. Even Mom laid brick. When the sub floor went in before the walls went up, every kid in the neighborhood had his/her dad's hammer and we were all pounding in nails. One every 4 inches. It was a project. 

The project was in the family until now. Fifty-five years and it's help up well. It has good bones. I am glad the family who bought it has children. The house needs kids. 

It is the first home my daughter lived in. The first four years of her life were here. My nieces and nephews have all made some memories here. It was a good place to live. It was a safe haven, if we needed it. It was where love was.

We raised dogs there as well as chickens. There was always a garden. As a kid we mowed the lawn with a push mower, all taking a turn. There were apples, cherries, pears, and mulberries. Dad also planted strawberries and grapes. As we grew older, Dad filled us up with veggies from the garden and eggs from the chickens. 

There is no place to go home to anymore. But it was a good place at the time. 

TTFN