A Star In Somebody Else's Sky

Just sometimes, it hits me. This place had a long history before us, has a long future after us. I keep thinking it's a part of our lives, but, really, it's the reverse. For a little while...I don't know.
It's like we're a part of its life.

~ Lorelai



Down the block from Javier's place, is the house that I lived in for 20 years. On and off the last few years, but I was the last one living there when it finally sold.

I didn't want to lose it. I did everything in my power to keep that house around, some way, somehow. All to no avail. As of May, I no longer had any right even to set foot on the property, much less go inside.

It stopped being mine.

Because Javier lives so close to the – no longer my – house, I have to drive near it pretty much every day. And every time, I would cry. It was so unfair. That was my house. How could the new owners love it the way I did?

Then one day, I passed by, and things were worse than ever. Shades were up. And from the street, plain as day, was the living room. Completely different.

Changed.

Not mine anymore.

I got bitter. Resentful. Who were these people, and how dare they live in my house? Why would they change it? Now I could never go home!

So I cried. Of course. And I knew I wasn't being reasonable. Few things about my emotions toward losing that house have been reasonable. I didn't care. I wanted my house back. I wanted to just park my car the way I had thousands of times, walk up the porch steps, avoiding that one broken brick, go inside, and see my family.

'Course, my family wasn't there anymore. My brother Robb had moved out a year earlier when he got married. My father and Eric had been in Colorado for almost six months; my mother, sister, and brother Sasha just a bit less.

When my house was finally sold and passed over to this new couple, it hadn't been "home" in some time. The rooms were unoccupied; the yard went unused. Even home cooking smelled lonely, because it was my cooking, not my mom's.

I remembered what my house was like before all that. What it was like growing up in it, so many Thanksgivings, Christmases, sleepover parties, adolescent and not-so-adolescent drama. That house was a haven for me for so long. Was I going to begrudge that to someone else?

Wasn't it more fitting that a young couple planning to have kids should live in this house now? Wouldn't I want those rooms as bright, sunny, and new for everyone as it was for me? Did I really want the house for myself, or did I want to hold onto something that had been long-since gone, just so no one else could have it?

I might always miss the big yellow house with the awesome porch swing. I will definitely always miss having my family under one roof, so close by.

But now it's time to let it go. To let other people be a part of that house's life.










©2008

I'm on my way...

Home Sweet Home

"I was thinking about the apartment on ninth. The floor sags. Needs a paint job. Right now it's just this, this foreign place. But pretty soon it's gonna be home. You know, it'll be a part of me, in a way."

~ Noel

On July 28, 1988, my family moved from Merrick to Baldwin. I was excited to move there; we all were. It was definitely a trade up. Robb and I went to school in Levittown anyway, and despite a lot of awesome things about Merrick, the Baldwin house was just better. Wayyyy bigger. And it had a porch swing!

The day was hard of course, moving one house to another in the heat of summer. And at the end of the night, my mother could NOT get the air conditioner in the window. After much cursing and frustration, she finally walked up to Robb and me and said, "Let's just go home!"

So we drove back to Merrick, where the house was still technically ours for another day or two, and where an air conditioner was conveniently in the window. We slept on the floor in my parents' room, which was now empty. It wasn't the same, but for one last night, we could still sleep at home.

Tomorrow, the movers are coming. My father and brother are already on their way to the new house, but my house still looks like the same home I've known for almost 20 years. I closed my door tonight and looked at my room, my teenage bedroom. The room where I cried over so many boys it's ridiculous. The room where I grew up, became "me." I looked at the window that looks out onto the side of the house and thought about that first day here, when I felt so lucky to live in such a pretty, airy room. I used to read books next to that window and just feel very romantic about things in general.

That won't be my room soon. I'm moving up to the third floor, and someone else will be living in my current room. And that part, I can't wait for. It will be a truly amazing thing to have my house filled with friends that I love. It's a blessing to get to stay in the house itself.

But that time hasn't come yet. For now, I'm mourning my family's gradual absence from the house. Soon my house will be a new home, and it will be great. But never the same again. So tonight? I want to "just go home" for one last night.

Much love, Baldwin family house.



©2007