We’ve just bought a little house. Our first. The bungalow we’ve been renting for the past five years will be someone else’s come March. That all still seems fictional right now. We’re only moving two blocks away, two blocks closer to the park, closer to Desmond, and closer to Felix. So it’s a good two blocks, a happy two. We will still walk to school and keep the same phone number.
This is at once exciting and somewhat bittersweet. I will miss this short, dead end street and the neighbors that are part of our every day. I will miss the deep front porch and the lemon trees, and the place on the wall where we’ve marked Bob’s growth since he was three.
Bob is excited and nervous. This is the only house he can remember living in. He is most concerned with the logistics of moving the goldfish but he’ll get to find space in his new room for his Legos and Minecraft toys. In the new backyard there is a tree with the possibility of a future tree house.
January will be about packing and cleaning out and obsessively gathering boxes.
The new place has blue shutters and a big old stove, and just enough room for two adults a boy a dog and a fish. Soon, it will stop being “the new place” and just become “home.”