Goodbye House

I sit at a table with a view of the pond. It is still and serene outside. Twilight is settling as faint streaks of pink and purple blend into darker blue. The solar lights start to twinkle amidst the lush garden foliage. The green of the trees is replaced with inky blackness.

The time of day is apropos, as I pen this post. The sun is setting on a season in your Grandma and Grandpa’s lives. It is time to move from the homestead to a smaller and more convenient location in the city. This house has been sold in response to the realities of aging. It is a logical and wise decision.

Yet, I am sad. More sad than I imagined.

I have only known this place for a decade, 10 short years in comparison to almost a lifetime for your Daddy. I was introduced to this place when your Daddy introduced me to his parents, five older sisters, five brother-in-laws, and numerous nieces and nephews. I recall feeling apprehensive. And overwhelmed. Would this “brown” professional woman in her early thirties be accepted as a possible life partner for the youngest – and only! – brother? Thankfully, the answer was a resounding YES!

In the years that followed, this house became a playground for the both of you. You were brought here as infants. You grew up learning to walk in the hallway adjacent to the kitchen. You indulged your taste buds eating farmer sausage and vareniki. You enjoyed singing “Birdie in the Tree Top” with Grandma on the swing. You played games with Grandpa. You picked fresh raspberries and carrots from the garden. My heart breaks the most for you two, as I wish you had more years here, to explore, to dream, to imagine. But as the youngest grandchildren of a very large family, that will not be your reality. I am sorry.

For me, this house, along with its surrounding community, was a space for quiet retreat. In many ways, I feel the most calm, the most connected to God the Father in nature. City life can be hectic. Here, at this home, life slowed down. Numerous games were played in various locations in the house. Conversations were exchanged over family dish-washing times in the absence of a machine. Several images of sunsets and flowers were captured by my camera. And I've taken many a leisurely -- and energetic -- walk down gravel roads and forest walkways.

I’m someone who does not enjoy long term goodbyes. I mean, who does? Nonetheless, some people are much more logical about the process, like your Daddy. I am logical to an extent. But I'm also quite emotional. I keep it together in front of the person I am saying goodbye to, but as the vehicle drives around the bend, I break down and weep. This summer has been tough in that regard. Thankfully, no one has left this world to enter the next. But, I’ve had to say goodbye too many times in the past few months. To three siblings who work overseas. To the preschool stage of you, my son, as you enter the world of school this fall. Now, to this home of beautiful memory and calm respite.

So, here is my goodbye to my favourite rooms in this house:

Goodbye blue room, the room that was my husband’s when he was a little boy and “our room” by default during overnight visits. This room was my quiet place where I feed my sweet babies in the comfort of a rocker.

Goodbye white room, with the flowery bedspread and the best overhead view of the backyard. In recent years, I've had "sleepovers" in this room with you, my daughter. Plus long naps and quiet times of reflection for myself.

Goodbye kitchen, with its swirly green countertop and mahogany cabinets. Here ham was baked, buns were formed and waffles were created. Dishes upon dishes were washed, which meant tummies were happily feed. And Ticket to Ride -- The Heart of Africa was played to my delight and my chagrin at the little white table.

Goodbye dining room, with the cream coloured walls and the moulding that propped up many a Christmas card from many a friend or relative. The view from your bay window was gorgeous, featuring flowers the hummingbirds and bees visited as we visited with loved ones around the table.

Goodbye living room, with its green walls, cozy sofas and breathtaking view of the pond. Your space hosted meaningful small group conversations to competitive word games to the crazy frenzy of Christmas morning with glittery wrapping paper strewn all over the place!

Goodbye yard, with its perennials and annuals, the numerous creative nooks to take portraits of my children. Thank you for letting my children play on your green carpet and breathe in fresh air released by the trees. Thank you for letting them romp around in the drifts of snow, leaving footprints and snow angels behind. And thank you for surrounding the house which has been one of the happiest places on earth for one little girl and one little boy and many, many others.

Including me.