I’ve shared recently about our big move to a new house (together!) and the things no one tells you about moving in together – and how excited I am to be getting settled into our new home. We ended up being pretty lucky that the house LJ lived in (and where all my stuff went in the few weeks of transition between my lease ending and our closing date) was a rental, and we had a full month to get moved out.
The last 34 days have been filled to the brim with moving boxes and packing tape, fast food dinners on coffee tables and trips to Lowes, and even a (more than likely) broken foot and
all of the a handful of cuss words. They’ve been full of a chorus of “Man, I’ll be so glad when we’re done with this old house.”
But now that it sits empty, only waiting on new carpet and a few paint touch-ups before we turn over the keys… I think it’s time to admit that, deep down, I’m going to miss that little brick house. A little.
So yeah, the kitchen seriously lacks on ventilation and I’m still 100% certain I saw a mouse one day (even if LJ will literally never believe me). But we spent a year together making Sunday morning breakfasts in that kitchen – holding impromptu wrestling matches and slow dances to no music. I was leaning against the counter waiting on dinner to finish when I told him the doctor said I needed a CBC, and again when I made the decision to see a therapist. It was where I accidentally cracked one of his favorite (and seemingly irreplaceable) pint glasses, where he opened the box to find the only one for sale on Ebay, and where we learned the lesson that with love and determination – even the impossible can be done.
Sure, maybe the wallpaper in the guest bathroom is straight out of the 70’s and peeling in spots, but that was where we gave the pups their baths and laughed until our stomachs ached when they shook all over. And the ‘master’ bathroom may have a foggy full length mirror, and a bathtub without a plug, but it was where we spent many mornings fighting over counter space and brushing our teeth together.
And yes, its next to impossible to hear when someone is talking to you from another room when you’re sitting in the living room, but that’s where we had our weekly date night to watch The Americans and had our “half time naptime” on Sunday afternoons. And where LJ found me half asleep on the couch, late one night when he got home late from wrestling, with a golf club in my hand and a 9mm on the coffee table because I heard a noise outside and got scared. (Turns out the screen door wasn’t latched.)
It’s the house I drove past
9 times more times than I care to count the first time I tried to find it. Where I thought I lost Apollo the first time I had the dogs out at night alone and off the leash, and where we got to play with Tyson in his first snowstorm. It’s where we spent hours on walks down the back roads, and balanced it out with too many bowls of buffalo chicken dip. It’s where the air conditioning unit got struck by lightening, and cut off, in the middle of a Southern summer while LJ was in Phoenix.
It’s is where LJ asked me to be his girlfriend, and where he told me he loved me for the first time.
To a passerby, it’s no more than a brick, ranch style house in the middle of a cow pasture. Maybe you’d even notice the huge tree in the front yard if it was in bloom. But what you wouldn’t see is the memories we’ve made together there, the integral part that humble little house has played in the story of us.
Last night as I stood in that empty house? I laughed, I smiled, I cried.
I’m thrilled for our next chapter (in a home built in 1998, with electric heat, and a more open concept) – but I’ll always be so incredibly grateful for the red brick house where we laid our foundation.