*Here is the beginning of my story all strung together 254 words more than what was there yesterday. I have a hard part to write next. Some thing needs to happen I am not sure what though. So let me know what need to be fixed*
Finding
January was not the best time to look to buy a house but we wanted to find one before out lease ended in four months.
Every sunday was the same we would sit down and look through the paper for open houses. We had had one evening with a realtor who only showed us new houses that were too white inside to have any character. We wanted room and character we didn’t want new and shiny.
On this one Sunday we decided to just check out some neighborhood. see what was in them. We drove toward the schools. Thinking that we would see something there. Past the high-school we turned down a hill the lane was tree lined with a few houses along it with no sidewalks just big front yards. The variance between these house showed a lack of neighborhood plan and individuality. at the bottom of the hIll stood a colonial style house with a big bay window and a for sale sign. We stopped in the circle in front of it. and as we were deciding to get out and grab a flyer the relator came out with a open house sign.
Was this some sort of fate.
Rolling down the window I ask, “When does the open house start?”
“As soon as you all walk in the front door, ma’am”
“Ok then” we walk up the front walk it’s stone like cobbles interspersed with brick step was shorter than it appeared and very unique. Although the house was at the bottom of a hill it sat on a slight rise that made the front walk and the driveway steep although this is masked by the lay out of the driveway and the yard.
It had not snowed much so the yellow brown grass poked through the light dusting of snow and ice. The walkway and steps clear of most ice and snow except that which has drifted into the crakes between the cobbles and bricks making them more crisp and clean in it appearance. One could only imagine that it would be softened by moss and other detritus during the rest of the year.
The front door was a warm rich brown stained wood with a thin arched beveled and pebbled glass window in the center of it. It was behind all glass Storm door. The had a look of being new. But the color and style was a little older and more classic that much of what we had seen. to the left of the door and partially hidden by the well manicured yew bushes in from of the large porch was the bay window. I squeezed my husbands hand. It was more than I had seen from the street. There were no window coverings and I can see into the front room It is a very large space, and empty.
Waking in I hear and feel the hardness of the wood floor. It is the dark finished floor of my dreams. Some one has sought to protect it’s finish in the entrance way with a small door mat. My husband set our daughter down on the floor. She cocks her three year old head to the side and fixes the realtor with a quizzical gaze.
“Is there a good back yard?” she asks
“Why yes sweetie shall we go look? It has a jungle gym”.
She walks us through the main floor telling us that he house is 25 years old and had only 3 owners. The current owner lived here for only a year before failing health meant she had to move to supported living apartment. The house has been empty for 2 years and on the market for 18 months.
We walk through the house to the back. We see hard wood floors a den with a fireplace, A family room dining room and a spacious kitchen. All things that we had been looking for. She mentions the dark wood and how it could be updated. We exchange looks knowing that we don’t want to up date it we find warmth in the dark wood.
We quickly get to the double french doors to the back yard. The yard is spacious and bordered by trees. In the center is an elegant but obviously disused play structure. The swings have some rust on them.
Looking at my quizzical daughter I can see that she is pleased. she has pressed her face against one of the window pane of the door.
“Mommy and Daddy, This is the back yard I want. It’s just right” she says with assurance and determination.
We giggle at her and scoop her up. “Well lets look at the rest of the house and ask some other questions before we think more about it.” says my husband.
The realtor continues the tour and we see the three bedroom with a private bath room for the master bed room. The two other bedrooms lend them selves easily to what we have been wanting.
We take the literature and the realtors card. We walk out to the car. after putting our daughter in the car seat we look back at the house. I feel it must be fate that we found this house.
“She was watching us leave. I think she is desperate to sell the house.” my husband says.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw the curtains in the upstairs window flutter shut when we looked back at the house” he says while starting the car.
“If she is so desperate what do you think is wrong with it?”
“It’s too perfect for us.” he replied laughing as we drive up the hill.
*We go home we run the numbers and check out calendar. We call the realtor to set up another visit.
All the motions of buying a house. It all falls easily into place, almost too easily. In the end we set a March closing date.
Moving In
My right hand aches as we drive into the short but steep driveway. It is our drive way. The most painful part about buying a house is signing the papers on closing day. Reams and reams of papers. I have never been happier that I changed my name when I got married. Short was so much better today.
We turn and grin at each other. With our little girl in daycare and the day off we plan to spend the day alone in our new house. We press the button on the garage door opener and watch it open. although it has only been a couple hours since we last saw the garage it seems so much bigger.
The door from the garage into the house seems to swing closed.
“Did you see that?” I ask out loud.
“See what?” My Husband responds
“The door moved, like it just closed”
“It was probably just the change in air pressure with the garage door opening”
“Of course it was”
We park in the garage and get the mop and the bucket out of the trunk.
We walk to the door into the house from the garage. it is locked and the keys don’t seem to work. We decide that it is better to go through the front door. We leave the cleaning supplies in the garage and walk to the front door. Grinning we unlock the door together and before I can protest my husband picks me up to carry me over the threshold. As he dose the March wind whips up and catches the screen door and swings into both of us. My feet find the front door and stop it as it starts to swing shut.
Laughing we push the door back and enter the house. It cold with out occupant the heat has been off or very low, and a midwestern spring brings snow and frigid temperatures. Neither of us can remember where the thermostat is. But as we will be working downstairs we decide we will turn on the gas fireplace.
We go to the den and turn on the fire place and is comes on with a high faint squeal. It is an unearthly noise that seem like a protest as the gas begins to flow through the pipes and ignite. The house is waking up and coming back to life having sat empty for several months. We hold our hands out towards the fire and the warmth from the blue flames behind the glass spread across our faces and hands.
We go about the house mopping the floors checking the faucets and the pipes. getting the cob webs down. putting any big spiders outside in the woods in the back. The wind makes the trees creak against each other and it seems like they welcome the spiders in a very eerie way.
After a few hours the house, although empty, feels warm and like it will be home. The movers will start tomorrow and it will be two days before we have all our stuff here from our apartment.
We go back to the car and get the sleeping bags, new shower curtains, floor lamps, and the few other thing we have brought over to make this place seem like ours.
We spread the sleeping bag on the floor and plug in the floor lamp in the den as it is getting darker. We have an hour before we need to pick up our daughter and head back to finish packing up the apartment.
The light and warmth of the fire flood the room with a romantic glow. We cuddle up on the sleeping bags looking at the fire and he begins to stroke my back. I turn to meet his kiss when there is a loud crash from up stairs.
We both jump up and run to the stairs. The mop and bucket have tipped over in the bathroom and the dirty mop water has spilled and is soaking into hall the carpet. We grab the few rags that we have and wring out the mop trying to soak up the water and stop the mess before it gets worse. Somehow we mange it but it has killed the romantic mood.
Once we get it cleaned up we realize it is time to go get our daughter and head back to the apartment for dinner. Turn off the fireplace and close up everything for the night. We leave the sleeping bag on the floor, It makes the room more feel more inviting and less empty.
The light of the day has dwindled into a pale evening. As we drive up the hill away from our newly purchased house the fine streaks of daylight in their oranges red and purples begin to embrace the sky. The moon is just visible in the grey sky. A full moon. My husband incline his head toward me.
“You know there was a couple times that I could have sworn the cats were already in the house today.” he says
“What do you mean”
“Well I’d see a tail, or something, disappearing around the corner but when the mop bucket tipped over I could have sworn I even heard cats scampering away.”
“Really?” Although I had some of the same feelings I don’t admit it. “Well, I bet you are just so used to cats being around that your brain is playing tricks on you. Seeing and hearing what you expect.”
We laugh about this and pull into the small parking lot to pick up our daughter. Her sweet 3-year-old face lights up to get both Mommy and Daddy picking her up.
“Do I have a backyard now Daddy?” She asks as she jumps up into his arms.
“Yes and we will go see it in the morning sweetie now we need to go back to our old place and get ready for the movers to come and get our stuff in the morning.”
Our apartment feels small and crowded especially after the large empty house. It is warmer and still feels firmly of home. Tonight is for packing and Pizza very little left to do.
The alarm goes off with extra urgency and very loudly. I open my eyes to see it’s face blurred barley 2 inches from the end of my nose. I takes me a moment to realize that I am sleeping on the mattress on the floor as everything else is stacked boxed and dismantled. the small box that the clock sits on is almost the same height as the mattress and I have curled up very close to the edge. I often try and get as close to the alarm clock as I can when the next morning is full of exiting promises. I slap the button on top of the clock giving the
My mind races through the day a head the movers are coming. We have so much to do. I can hear my husband still breathing the long relaxed breaths of sleep. The temptation to let him rest and stay in bed for the next hour rises in me but with the excitement of getting our belonging ensconced in out new home triumphs and I sit up putting my feet on the floor.
I feel the stiffness that has settled in from yesterday’s hard work. My right hand hurts the most. between washing down everything down and the signing of my name what felt like several hundred times. I massage my right hand relieving some of its ache but adding to the ache of the left. As I switch I marvel at how relieving pain can cause pain else where.
The morning is chilly for March. We have turned down the heat in the apartment to prepare for the mover to come and get our belongings for the short trek to our house.
I am perched on the arm of the couch holding an old mug full of hot tea trying to inhale the steam to warm me. My husband has taken out daughter to daycare for the morning. She didn’t want to go. But we have promised that as soon as the moving truck is at the house we will go get her. But for now I am waiting for them to arrive, alone. I breathe in the steam in soak up the quiet.
Surrounded by boxes. I cannot get comfortable or relax. Not that I really want to. I feel the pressure of time right now. I wan to leave this small crowded apartment. The packed and stacked boxes make the feeling more urgent and tight. The time although slowly moves my mug slowly cools and empties. I start to consider what I can stuff into my own car to start the move without needing to wait longer.
I slump back into the box behind me and sight loudly to break the silence.
“Hello, Ma’am” questions a voice, starling me. It has come from from the other side of the boxes I have slumped against on the couch. I sit up and peer over the box. A large burly man with a hand truck is standing in the open door way.
“Ummm Hi?” I enquire back.
“I’m Rick I’m from the Ver River Moving Company. You husband let me in. He said he was going down to the storage area. to get the bikes. I take it you were tired of waiting. I didn’t think we were late. My crew is outside.”
“Oh, No your not it is just the anticipation” I reply feeling the blush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks, “Ok, everything is labeled. Let me know If you have any questions. You can use the patio door if that will help.”
“So you bought ‘The House at the Bottom of the Hill’?” he says conversationally. “I was wondering is anyone would buy that place again.”
“What do you mean? Does the house have a history”
“Well I wouldn't say that. I t seems that when people buy it they don’t stay long but it sits empty for a while before it goes on the market. I don’t know why but that is what people have been talking about.”
“People talk about that house?” for some reason my heart has picked up speed and I have a pit forming in my stomach. Could our wonderful house be a problem? A lemon that no-one knows what to do with.
“Ma’am Don’t worry it is nothing bad. Everyone says it is a wonderful house. People just get sick or get transfered out of state no-one wants to give it up.”
Although I feel my momentary panic abate. I have a sinking feeling in the back of my brain some thing about doors, cats, and mop buckets. I need to get this show on the road.
I am able to se this conversation aside and discount it as my excitement begins to build as I watch the moving truck fill. So I will be able to watch it empty and my belonging fill my house.
“My house” what a wonderful thing to be able to say.
I don’t have time to think I don’t have time to fret. The truck is filled the apartment is empty the storage unit in the basement is empty. The cats are in the car time to pick up out daughter.
The real work is about to start.
I kiss my husband and he heads to speak with the moving guys before they drive over I want to pick up my daughter and get to the house before they do. I climb into my car and start my drive to pick up my daughter. As I do my mind begins to think through what all this really means and my excitement.
This is the day I have been dreaming of since my sweetheart was born. A back yard with a swing set. somewhere to run and climb. A fireplace to fuel those romantic moments. All this give me a great sense of excitement and I have to check my driving speed.
As I pull into the day care center, I can see the kids playing outside. I pull into the parking spot with full view of the playground and I sit. I can watch my daughter on the playground, I have a great view from where I sit.
She stands in the middle of everything on the play ground, her hands on her hips head cocked to onside. She is watching it all, soaking it up, and considering her options. She will choose what she can do. Her chubby cheeks and bright blue eyes show more thought than your average three-and-a-half-year-old.
Her wispy hair pokes out from the hack of her pink fleece hat in a soft outward light brown curl. Bangs barely poke out of the front. The hat fastens under her chin. She is wearing a nubby dark bLue and Green fleece coat and pink boots the day is warm and dry enough though to skip the snow pants so you can see her white and Blue striped leggings and her blue and white striped dress.
A huge smile crosses her face and she runs for the two boys on the sleek wooden play structure. She swiftly climbs up and joins her friends chatting away with ease.
I get out of the car knowing that there is a good chance that as involved as she is with her friends she may be reluctant to leave. As soon as I enter the playground she sees me and runs over.
“Are we moving in to the house now?” she loudly asks running at me full force.
“Yes we are sweetie” I answer.
“Hooray! I have a backyard can i go play there now?”
“Ok lets go!”
She waves good bye to her friends and runs out dragging me after her. I can feel my momentary unease leaving me. her enthusiasm washes over me and the joy on her face is infectious and I feel my face mirroring it and any tinge of gray in my mood has left.
We get in the car. The drive to the house is so short. Just a few blocks. We chat about walking and biking to day care in the summer on the short drive to the new house.
As we drive down the hill we can see the Moving van being opened and My husband’s car in the open garage.
My daughter is so exited that she is almost yelling from the back seat ”Hi house, hi daddy, hi moving guys!”
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