Because we have put our house on the market to sell I frequently refer to my home and it's contents as a museum. It's a reminder to us that all things must be kept spotless and roped off and that no real existence of life should be recognizable. It is an odd way to live in a house that has been "home sweet home" for many years.
The other day after running errands, Cassie and I walked in the front door and I began reciting a typical museum tour speech, using hand gestures to direct focus on the features being presented...
" Welcome to the home de la FRAziER. As we enter the home, notice the room directly to the left. This room was used mostly by the children as a place called a "Catch-All" ( my dad suggested we use a snooty french accent when we say "catch-all"... makes it sound sophisticated) Cassie and I laughed at my impromptu museum speech. I think it relieved some of the stress of museum living.
As I have mingled throughout the house since, I have wondered what I could say about each room of my house. We have occupied this home for nine years and there is a lot of history here,
The "catch-all" room is where my daughter's prom dates would wait for them to come down the stairs in their up-do's and flowing gowns. It was the room where our faithful home teacher, Tom Blair, stuck someone's foot in a bucket of ice water to represent the suffering of the saints that walked the trail with no shoes in the snow and cold. This was the room where Carly came in with her sisters to a present the idea of a family paper route with her clipboard and list of pros and cons.
Our kitchen and den area has been the life of the house. It is where we hosted a numberless flow of friends, missionaries and family gatherings. We said our family prayer in this room when Jon lost his job and said a prayer of thanks when he found a new job. It was in this area on Sunday nights we played games with dear friends. Richelle made us all laugh here when she cut our hair. We had countless family home evenings, Sunday calendaring and birthdays celebrated these rooms. Pompa and Grandma came and watched the kids open Christmas gifts and it was the room where Jon and I sat, while we waited for girls to come home from dates and dances.
I touch the walls and look around the entirety of each of the rooms. It is just a house... but still I search it intensely to take in any last glimpses of our memories here. I can see the little girl that Cassie was when we arrived....so precious....and Shane with a toothless grin and toe-head bowl cut. I can sometimes hear the sounds of life that once was here with all our children living at home....new puppies arrived... Rachel got her driver's license, Jenna her first kiss and Carly her first paycheck.
The chances I have to actually be in this house are slipping away. Soon there will be a new owner with fresh ideas of decorating and different views on life. They will begin their own memories here in the structure of this home.
I realize that I will always have 933 Baintree in my mind. It was the place we called home for a season but it will not be a conjuring up of walls, stairs, floors or ceilings but instead a vision of my family here, complete with sound and motion, laughter and tears.
The memories of our life really exists in the hearts of Jon and I,
they rest with Rachel,
are cared for by Carly,
joked about by Jenna,
sustained by Shane
and cherished with Cassie.
With all of you...my family and friends, I am home.
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1 comment:
Love this, Rebecca. Can't wait to help you make some memories in your new home in Franklin!
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