If walls could speak

Last week I got an email from my sister, Tracey, telling me that the house from our childhood was being torn down.  We had seen it up on the housing market about a year ago, and had considered even acting as prospective buyers and making an appointment with an agent just to be able to walk through it.  Well, we never did, and the house sold.  Apparently someone with a new vision has plunged into the project.

Thursday evening, the kids and I met Tracey and Christian up at that familiar corner of Oak Terrace, expecting to find the beginnings of a total demolition.

Gone was the south, upstairs side of the house where the kitchen and dining room once stood. The staircase that circled the walls of the front entrance was now in pieces on the driveway along with the railing of what was our balcony and remnants of old pipes, fixtures, and carpet.  

Some of the original framework of the house remains; the hallway from the living room that once lead back to the upstairs bedrooms appears to be walled off and untouched for now.  The sloped ceiling and front windows still stand, though with the staircase gone, we wonder whether the owners plan to move the front entrance farther south.  The original window wells in the back of the house peek down into a hollowed out basement where our family room, utilities, and Valerie's bedroom once were.

Tracey and I walked past the caution tape to take a few pictures and to stand in our old home again.  It wasn't too emotional of a time, but it was pretty surreal.  

With the walls and ceiling gone, the house felt so much smaller.  The distance from the front to the back was much shorter than I would have guessed. A favorite climbing rock was still there, as were many of the trees, the basketball standard in the driveway, the walkway where we used to set up "sidewalk sales."  I wonder what other memories those old walls and rubble could share if they could speak.  An old neighbor friend, John Mitchell, happened to drive by while we were walking around; he was just leaving his mom's house up the street.  It was fun and strange to see his grown-up self, and I have to say that I felt small again for a moment.

I have saved in a file cabinet a paragraph my mom wrote back when they were getting ready to sell our house and move into the condominium where they now live.  It reads:

We moved into our home on Oak Terrace in the late fall of 1972.  We were attracted to the neighborhood because of the location--centrally located with easy access to many places in the valley--with the quiet isolation of an attractive neighborhood environment.  We liked the mature trees, quiet streets, and well-maintained properties in a variety of architectural styles that continue to make this neighborhood inviting.  The schools--Oakridge Elementary, Churchill Junior High, and Skyline High School--are exceptional.

Over the past 25 years, we have made some changes to meet the needs of our family of three girls who have lived here all of their lives.  Some of the changes made were to accommodate the needs of our family as our girls' interests changed from outdoor swing sets and sandboxes to private sunbathing and barbecues on the back patio.  We have valued the feeling of openness in our home; the vaulted ceilings and expansive windows, the comfortably-sized rooms and ample storage provide a pleasant environment.  Because we have enjoyed living here, added amenities and improvements have been consistent with the visual and utilitarian appeal of our home. 

Mom sent this email on June 14, again expressing in writing her feelings about a home not forgotten.

Hi Girls,

Somewhat speechless at the abrupt end to our family home, I wasn't sure how to handle it.  I think I went through my separation from the home right after we moved.  I used to drive by and check out the changes (none of them good in my opinion, except for the removal of the large blue spruce which may have toppled over anyway).  I will never forget the last night I slept there.  We had moved all of our stuff to the condo but because things were in such a mess, I decided to stay there with Wesley so he would have a more gentle transition.  It was so strange to be there with all the furniture and people gone--just me and Wesley.  It was no longer home without our family and artifacts from our existence.  It was very emotional for me to walk out the door for the last time.  So, I have already mourned and moved on.  As I said before, though, the memories are strong and the place will always hold a special place in my heart.  It is nice to know that someone values the space that we once occupied, enough to invest a big chunk of change to improve it.  Your dad says that if we had stayed there, he had some ideas for some renovations that we would have made.  It will be interesting to watch all of this unfold and see the final results.

Thanks Tracey for giving us all a heads up on the status.  Your dad and I stopped by on our way home from golf with Lou Ann and Wade.  That is when I sent the email.  We didn't have a camera so I am glad that Tracey and Jodie were able to capture some pictures and that you have some of the bricks.  Sorry that Valerie is away and unable to make a physical visit.  Your dad and I were just saying that we are glad to know that the family home where you grew up holds special memories for you all as it does for us!

Love, Mom

NOTE: I took some photos, but find it interesting that most of the photos on my phone from that evening were taken by my kids.  They took pictures of little things that I wouldn't have thought to capture.  And I suppose the angle from which they were taking pictures was more appropriate than my adult and now more distanced one.  I'm glad I let them take over with the camera after all.