Patching Dents
/We’re preparing for a move over here. I hate moving, but there's always something exciting to me about a new adventure. Plus we’re buying a home, and it's thrilling to be on the verge of moving into something that’s yours. Something you can put yourself into. Also, no more having to clean the house frantically so the owner doesn’t judge you for being human in their house. *Hallelujah!*
This rental will be the longest house we’ve ever lived in though, so leaving it has made me just a tad nostalgic. I’ve been wrapped up in packing for a while now, and we will be downsizing considerably so there is a great deal of dejunking going on as well. Through it all though, I can’t help but feel a little sad to be moving on. We’ve moved nine times in our short thirteen years of marriage. That's a lot of packing boxes, folks.
In all of our years together, until now, the longest we'd lived in any house was a short year and a half (we are going on three and a half years in this house). As a result of moving around so much, I usually get restless a year or so in, but I always felt settled here. Content. Thats a really big deal for me! I felt so content here, in fact, that when we finally started to feel that it was time to move on, we looked almost solely in the same city. AND miraculously, we were able to find a house that fit nearly all our criteria which is equally monumental. It is California after all, and my biggest requirement was land. (I know. Have a good laugh at my expense.) Growing up on several acres made me snobby about how close my neighbors are to me! I'm not asking for the moon! But if I can spit and hit my neighbors exterior wall it's way, WAY too close. I just need to breathe man!
So, after thirteen years of marriage, nine moves, and five kids, we are more than ready to settle down a little and plant some of those good old fashioned “roots” everyone talks about. Before moving to this town, I was fairly certain that settling down wasn’t really my jive. It’s grown on me though, as has this over crowded, sort of irritating -albeit beautiful and sunny- state I currently reside in. I seem to recall more than one occasion when I swore vehemently that I would never -and I meant NEVER- settle down in Southern California, and yet, here we are. Well played so-cal. Well played.
Anyway, we’ve been fixing up a lot of what happens when 7 -sometimes more!- people live in a house for three and a half years. Lightbulbs, wall art (that doesn't belong there), nail holes and other various dents/scratches/dings/scrapes and mishaps that happen to a house when you’re actually living in it. Jess patched up a great deal of those holes and dents today, and I found myself remembering how each one got there. One large dent in particular on the corner of the wall, was put there by Elliott while he was chasing his sisters with a blanket over his head. He slammed crown first into it, and not only did it leave a dent in the wall, it exposed a corner of the steel beam inside it. I remember he cried -because I’m sure it hurt really bad- but also I remember we all laughed about it, joking with him that his head was so hard that it broke the wall. Remembering that made me a little sad. It brought with it three years worth of memories! We brought both our 4th and 5th babies home from the hospital here. We went from a family of five to a family of seven in this house! Birthdays and family gatherings, movie nights and laundry days, dinner around the table and in front of the TV (probably too much of the latter and not enough of the former). Christmases, Easters, Halloween dress ups. Pancake breakfasts, dance parties and forts. Chore charts and time outs and silly arguments.…We lived here!
The drawings on the walls, while frustrating to remove, are small reminders of the little hands that put them there. There are dirty footprints all over the hallway walls and entry ways, because the kids figured out early on, that they could climb them. Lovely. Even the broken branches on the tree out back are a reminder of summer days spent trying to climb that poor sad little tree that was never meant for children to sit in it. The small palm tree on the hill outside that the kids affectionately named “Palmy” and celebrated countless birthday parties on behalf of. These are a few of my favorite things.
Of course we haven't always had good times here, but I can honestly say without a doubt, that we have had a million more good days than bad in this house. We created a life here that was impossible for my wanderlust heart to escape, and that’s saying something!
I love this place for the memories it gave us. It’s been a good place to stop and get older together for a while. It’s been a good place to leave our mark! And on that note, I sort of wish we could leave the dents where they are.
Here are a (very) few of my favorite pictures of our time in this house. To post them all would probably break the internet. Also, who has time to look through a billion photos for a few really good ones? Not me.