I’m moving. I’m
not going far - just three miles away - nevertheless the process of packing up
the house has not been fun for me. I did manage to unearth clothes I thought my
daughters had taken, shoes lonely for their mates, and my high school
yearbooks.
While I’m happy
about the new house, leaving the one I’ve lived in for over twenty-two years is
bittersweet. It’s the place I fled to right after I finished about a year’s
worth of chemotherapy (when my then-present house had become more of a hospital
than a home), and it’s next door to my sister Kay, the only one of my siblings
who is a bone marrow match. I’m grateful to have never needed her in that
capacity; however, living next to her, her husband Tony, and their four
children has been a life-saver in many other ways.
Kay’s a great cook
and my children often ran to her home when they didn’t like what I had
prepared. She was also their mediator. If they were grounded or had their
phones taken away, Kay would come to my house, sit at my table and say
something to the effect of, “Now, Ronny, they didn’t mean to do it. I think
they’ve been punished long enough.”
Now that the
search for a single-story house has ended, I’m saying goodbye to the one that
echoes with conversations and laughter from years of family gatherings, Bible
studies, slumber parties, the Christmas when it snowed, and the many holidays
when it didn’t.
Another family will
get to enjoy the roses from the bush that Aunt Judy gave to me when my first
grandchild was born, the trees that shaded my children’s play, and volleyball
games in the pool.
And Kay can still
walk to my house for dessert. I’ll only be three miles away.
Ronny
may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com.
