There have been many moves over our years of marriage. Upwards of ten. Some more adventurous than others. The most recent change of address has involved “downsizing.” Weeding items out. Cleaning and clearing out. Assessing memories. Keepsakes. What stays? What goes? Shredding papers and years of living.
Happily, our Vermont home is now beginning to fill with firsts. Items for our 8-month-old granddaughter. Subtle hints of grandparenting dot our cupboards and countertops. Tub toys delivered to our front porch. A brightly colored seaplane, a submarine and a tugboat. Primary colors. Tiny hands will try to whirl the age-appropriate propeller. Discovery. A first. The anticipated splash of water as the tugboat meets the water with an uncontrolled force will greet us all with a giggle. The joy of firsts…
A first home purchase for our son and his wife. Closing day is tomorrow. Real estate trials and tribulations will soon be behind them. Their castle awaits. Packing and home improvement plans will busy them over the next number of weeks. My husband’s toolbox is already by our back door. Years of valuable experience housed in the heavy metal chest just waiting to be unclipped. Cherished memories of our first home greet me this morning. My grammar school bank account was a relatively large contributor to our first down payment. We worked hard for and on “our first dream home.” Built in 1932. A vintage kitchen linoleum floor had been laid with tar paper. Once beautiful oak flooring unrecoverable. Surprises continuously discovered and uncovered. Firsts. One project led to another. Sweat equity in abundance. As was our new home ownership energy. Kids playing grown-up. I remember being near my due date with our daughter, the first, leaning out the back door while my husband and his highly skilled father replaced our back stairs in the early summer heat. I just barely opened the door to see if I could get them a drink and their protective instincts were heard by all of our new neighbors. They feared me toppling out the door. Weebles wobble. Satisfaction wrapped up in so many sweet memories. I wish for my son and his lovely wife many such wonderful projects…
The final vestige of my parent’s estate will close tomorrow as well. A large parcel of land. The end of one birthright and the start of another. Somewhere around 150 years of family ownership will be the responsibility of another. A new family. New hopes. New dreams. The land fertile for imagination. Rich with possibilities. The dreams of another child will freely run through the high grass. Climbing apple trees. Building forts. Ice skating backwards on the pond while on the shoulders of a teenage neighborhood boy. Hoping animal shapes continue to be discovered in the fluffy white cumulous clouds overhead on a lazy summer afternoon. I wish for the new owner many memory making adventures as they now build their homestead…
Tomorrow will be my second and last vaccine shot. So many lasts have been felt over the many pandemic months. I can’t wait to get on with the art of living. It is starting. I can feel it. It is being delivered to my front porch…
If you learn to respond as if it’s the first day in your life and the very last day, then you will have spent this day very well. David Steindl-Rast
