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March 23, 2009
All the anticipation of moving…the packing, the cleaning, the sorting, the fixing, and then the actual transporting of objects…has transformed into just trying to make a new place feel like home. All I can say is the dynamics of a move are SOOOOO emotional and complex. Maybe it’s because our kids entered the universe by way of Natchez Street, or the friendships that were formed there…whatever the reasons, it’s hard to let go. Every time we go back to grab a few things, or primp the house, there is melancholy. On Saturday, we all went over to see how the new basement carpet looked…and all of our close neighbors converged. We were admiring and mourning. The house is picture perfect. It smells clean and fresh. There is no clutter. It has a new echo because so many things are gone. It’s so hard to explain the feelings…like it will always be mine, but it won’t. Like we belong there, but we don’t.
When we bought our house in 2001, it was mouse infested, there were no light fixtures, it had ugly gray carpet everywhere, there was puke in the bathroom toilets, the kitchen cabinets were sagging and full of mouse poop, the windows were boarded up, the front door was smashed in and the backyard was full of branches. It looked like a giant nest for a prehistoric flying creature. We had no doorknobs, no appliances, and it took 4 weeks of cleaning before we could even move in. We commuted 25 miles each way every day from West Chicago to Chicago after work, slaving away. The former owner had 9 guys living with him and they were dealing drugs. One day the Feds came and bashed in the front door and hauled them away. We bought the house from the Federal Marshall for a really good price.
We put our heart and soul into it for the past 8 years.
As much as I want the simple life, saying “good bye” to our Chicago home is hard. And letting just anyone buy it is even harder. So I pray every day for the next home owner. Our house is sacred to me. It’s a place that I prayed for and prayed from every day that we lived there. Over the past 8 years, we witnessed a transformation that only God could’ve done. There are no longer drug dealers on our street. There is a strong and connected community. Before our kids were born, I was a COMMUNITY ORGANIZER, passing out fliers for this and that, getting the block party together, forming a book club, etc. After Nathan was born, another neighbor took over, then another and another and I have stepped back. Now everyone has a role and it’s all working. Our house became the hub and I pray that the next people will be the joiner-types. I’ll never forget that all the neighbors knew us before even moved in. Each one had taken the time to come by and introduce themselves. Prior to moving to the city, we had lived in a quiet condo community in the western burbs where everyone stayed to themselves. Natchez Street is like Sesame Street. In the summertime, the kids are out, and the grownups can be seen drinking coffee or lemonade on the front steps together…our front steps!
our living room before… (3000 staples were pulled out of these wood floors one at a time!!!)
and after
our sagging kitchen cabinets made of water logged particle board
and after… quarter-sawn, Amish made, solid wood cabinets, NO LAMINATE!!!
So, we are gradually letting go. After all, we can’t take it with us when we leave the planet, right?
Just one last thing…to the next owner out there, whoever you might be, please don’t paint my cabinets white!!!!