This summer, we are going to move to the other side of town. It's time and it's the thing to do and it makes all kinds of sense. But I love this house and we have been so happy here for 7 years.
This old house has had its share of problems and when someone asks what style our bathroom or kitchen is I tell them it's in "1980's-style."
Did I mention there are constant problems with an 80 year-old house?
But it is a character house, with lots of wood trim, a beautiful fireplace, and an incredible garden, all only half a block from the shore. Then again, it's half a block from the shore, and it's always ALWAYS damp and chilly here, every season of the year.
Our daughter had just turned 4 when we moved here, and she'll be 11 when we move. I've estimated she spent about 1,000 hours a year out in the back yard, exploring, playing with worms and planting, climbing trees, and eating from the garden. This house is where we have had all our Easters and Christmases and birthday parties. When we moved here, she was as tall as the mantle in the living room; she's 10 inches above it now.
The move will be a good one; we will be much closer to my husband's work, and our daughter will be starting middle school at a great school in the area, and several of our best-friend-families live there, so we will be able to get together with them more easily and more often. (Plus, our tween girls will be hanging out together.) It just makes sense to move now. And husband won't have to worry any more about crossing through downtown twice a day in the dark rain and wind, trying to look out for all the jaywalkers dressed in black...
Our dear sweet kitties Wilda and Oberon are buried under the ferns on the west side of the house. Also amid the ferns is a little memorial to our sweet pet chickens: Mrs. Cluckers, Heckle, and Jeckle, who fell victim to a horrible woman claiming to be a pet sitter.
(Secretly I'm hoping that when my husband and I retire, we can buy this house and move back here.) I'm sad about leaving, and at the same time I'm feeling a little anxious, and a little excited about finding a new home. But any way I look at it, it's going to be the end of some things...
This old house has had its share of problems and when someone asks what style our bathroom or kitchen is I tell them it's in "1980's-style."
But it is a character house, with lots of wood trim, a beautiful fireplace, and an incredible garden, all only half a block from the shore. Then again, it's half a block from the shore, and it's always ALWAYS damp and chilly here, every season of the year.
Our daughter had just turned 4 when we moved here, and she'll be 11 when we move. I've estimated she spent about 1,000 hours a year out in the back yard, exploring, playing with worms and planting, climbing trees, and eating from the garden. This house is where we have had all our Easters and Christmases and birthday parties. When we moved here, she was as tall as the mantle in the living room; she's 10 inches above it now.
The move will be a good one; we will be much closer to my husband's work, and our daughter will be starting middle school at a great school in the area, and several of our best-friend-families live there, so we will be able to get together with them more easily and more often. (Plus, our tween girls will be hanging out together.) It just makes sense to move now. And husband won't have to worry any more about crossing through downtown twice a day in the dark rain and wind, trying to look out for all the jaywalkers dressed in black...
Our dear sweet kitties Wilda and Oberon are buried under the ferns on the west side of the house. Also amid the ferns is a little memorial to our sweet pet chickens: Mrs. Cluckers, Heckle, and Jeckle, who fell victim to a horrible woman claiming to be a pet sitter.
(Secretly I'm hoping that when my husband and I retire, we can buy this house and move back here.) I'm sad about leaving, and at the same time I'm feeling a little anxious, and a little excited about finding a new home. But any way I look at it, it's going to be the end of some things...
