This Old House
I am not one of those girls who remembers every anniversary of every single thing in my life. I couldn’t tell you the date that I first kissed my husband, the date that we decided to get married or the date that we first went out…
But I can tell you what I was doing 10 years ago tonight. I was sitting in the floor of my dining room, no furniture, eating fried chicken from the Acme. It the was first night in our new home.
Although I can’t remember what I did last week, I can recollect every single moment of that day in September. It was ridiculously hot - a record for Philadelphia. Friends and family came to help us move our things in… At one point, I turned to my dad and told him that if Chris and I ever split up (we weren’t married then, shh!), he could have everything because I was never moving again. It was a flurry of activity all day long. And finally, at some point, everyone was gone and it was just Chris and I in our new house.
In just a few short months, I was calling it my home. I cleaned and painted and moved things around. I remember thinking that we could never fill this house, it just felt so big.
Ten years later, we often say that it feels small. We have packed our whole lives into these three floors.
This is my home.
This is where Lyle first crawled out of his box, all sneezy and whiny. He cried all night in his crate - and I stayed home from work the next day because I was worried that he was sick.
This is where Chris and I would sit out on our porch every Friday afternoon in summer while our friends popped in and out for casual happy hours.
This is where I announced each of my pregnancies. With Katie, it was on Thanksgiving. I was terribly morning sick. Both families were here for the holidays. We went around to say what we were thankful for - I said that I was thankful for the Potscrubber 600 (our dishwasher) because we’d need it with a new baby.
This is where each of my children took their first steps. And where they learned to ride bikes and scooters and to chalk on the sidewalk.
This is where I learned to love football. When the Eagles were playing the Green Bay Packers in the play-offs - and the power went out in the neighborhood - we watched as the whole neighborhood got into their cars to hear the end of the game. In a miraculous twist of fate, the Eagles won that game. And I suddenly got it, that feeling of how sports can bring you together.
This is where our firm started - upstairs, on the third floor. We saw our first ever potential client here and turned him down because he wanted us to do something that we didn’t feel comfortable doing. I spent the whole night worried that someone who just asked us to do something illegal now knew where we lived… but it was a great precedent. We made the right decision. And eventually, fortune smiled on us.
There is where my kids had their birthday parties and we had our holiday parties and potluck suppers.
This is where camera crews interviewed us for “Trading Spaces” - and I described us (yes, out loud) as “I’m a little bit country and he’s a little bit rock and roll.” And years later, this is where camera crews set up shop all day to monitor Amy’s wacky sleeping disorder for “Surviving Motherhood.”
This is where I came home empty-handed after giving birth to Katie. She was in the NICU for days and finally, they made us go home without her. I never thought a house could feel so empty.
This is where my kids got sick, fell down stairs, cracked teeth and otherwise got hurt - and eventually got better.
This is where I cried together with Chris watching the coverage of 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina.
This is where I laughed myself hoarse at stories from friends during girls’ nights on Wednesdays and at Chris’ corny jokes.
This is where I planned my first garden from scratch, where I got poison ivy from my insane neighbor, where I eagerly awaited the burst of color from tulips every spring and the crunch of dried grass under my feet in fall.
This is where my kids first played in the snow and where I first shoveled snow.
This is where I have packed away ten years’ worth of memories - both good and bad. This is home.