front door

The night before we moved in, I drove over to the old house by myself.

It was hot and the air was sticky. It was so quiet in the old house that my ears strained. I walked into every room. The late, summer light shown through all 42 windows. I didn't need lights. I sat on the steps wondering what the next day would be like. Tomorrow was move-in day; it was also the first day of school and the plumbers would be there to dig up the front yard and install a new water service.

Hopefully, we would have water for our first night in the old house.

- taken the night before we moved in, August 2012 -

The next day was one of my hardest days.
I was determined to walk E to school. I wanted us to embrace this new experience. We walked down tree-lined streets, passing beautiful, historic homes. E was courageous. We exchanged i love you's and hugs and she disappeared through the doors. I turned around and cried. No one knew who I was. No one had ever seen me there before. I felt invisible.

It was already uncomfortably warm when I got back to the old house. The boys were waiting for me on
the porch. The moving truck and backhoe had arrived. The drivers were trying to figure out a way for the two large vehicles to share the space on our small street. Ours and a few of the neighbors' trees lost branches. The drivers didn't care. They did not say a word about the broken limbs lying in the street.

The neighbors must have been watching from inside their homes. Most of them have lived on this street for
30 or more years, but it was move-in day for them, too. They said goodbye to their old friend and neighbor several months ago. The old house sat vacant for a long time and now there were new people.

Our neighbors immediately picked up the branches from the street. They all came over that day.
We were welcomed with homemade cookies, brownies, healthy breakfast bread, a stuffed and ready to roast chicken, flowers, wine and chocolate covered strawberries. They never said a word about the broken limbs. One of the retired guys stayed and supervised the plumbing work (I learned later that he does this for any major project happening on the street). I remember rushing past the dining room windows, then stepping back to look out and see Bruce standing with the plumbers in the seven foot deep hole in our front yard.
I am thankful he was there that day.

We did have water our first night in the old house, but the bathtub would not drain.
I could not stand to be in the old house. It felt weird and the endless piles of boxes made me feel anxious. For the first several evenings, after the kids were in bed, I sat outside on the front steps until my bedtime. Hubby and I would have a beer and talk about the old city, the new city and what project we wanted to do first.
We talked a lot about the front door. I love the front door.

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