Ode to that First Place.

To the house on the hill – whom I said good bye to this past weekend,

Thank you.

Thank you for being that home that I had when I first got married. In one short year (and some), you’ve housed so many memories. Your rooms remind me of many things from the evenings in the den to the long life conversations on the patio to the meals in the kitchen to laying out on the floor reading the paper.
From Lola sitting on her coop in the corner to Matt and I opening Christmas presents and finding places to put the travel poster.

As I walked through the empty house I saw these memories play out in my head.

From trying to get into the house from the backyard when walking home in the rain to Matt bashing his head on the previous light in the dining room.

Matt laying on a ladder sanding wallpaper glue while I scrubbed the walls.

From the closet that Michele painted to the bathroom that my mother “graciously”removed the wallpaper from. The lights over the stairs that I watched our fathers put in to the face that Matt wouldn’t give me when I hung over the edge of the balcony taunting him.

From the first picture that went up (a picture of a pig in the kitchen) to the last taken down (a gift from my cousin, a bridesmaid, that was an etched mirror with our names from the wedding).
The friends we had over.

The private parties we had ourselves.

The conversations and fights with the cats.

The hard time with the tears to the happy with the laughs (that sometimes led to tears). 

To the gallons and gallons of paint that went on the walls and ceilings and the conversations around color and purpose.

To the miles of wallpaper that we continue to see hold on to the glory that once was. To the before and after of the master bath.

Matt’s expression of love after not freaking out to the learning process of “knock-down”.

To the pathetic garden we tried to make.

To Nike’s room and TonyDanza’s couch.

To the bedroom door that was shut with a laundry basket for the longest time.

To the puke stain under the bed that I’m pretty positive was not me.

From our first dabbling in canning to a kitchen full of steam and pizza sauce.

From carrying me over the threshold to champaign and leftover wedding sandwiches while we relived the weekend.

You’ve been an amazing house and I hope our forceful update upon our arrival was embraced versus resented.

You and your housed memories will not be forgotten…You were our first home that we came back to as husband and wife and for that I will remember you (and your high MDU bills) fondly.

Best meal: Muffins at the peek-through hole in the kitchen. It wasn't the most culinary advanced but it was the final meal there.

 

Driving on interstate.
ALR sees cow in pasture.
ALR thinks: hmmm... that cow is by itself, wonder what's going on.
MJR sees cow.

MJR: "Wonder what's up, that cow is all alone."
ALR whips head over: "We have been living with my parents too long! You are not supposed to think like that!"