A House

*Post by Kelby I was reading the Memphis Commerical Appeal newspaper on Sunday. They have a homes section that is basically a big advertisement for realtors. Hayley and I, as she said in her previous entry, just like looking at houses. I think most people do, but since Hayley is so involved with design, its an opportunity for her to see what other people are doing in terms of style. There was an article this week about a husband and wife, with 2 boys that were about 5 and 10. They had been buying houses, moving in and renovating, then selling. They'd done this 7 times in the last 7 years. My first thought was wow, those kids never get to enjoy a house and how are memories made when they just keep moving on. Maybe it was the haze of nostalgia of my own formative years. Perhaps it was the feeling you undoubtedly feel when you here a song like "The House that Built Me" by Miranda Lambert. My thoughts then turned to Lincoln and as a parent now, I want him to have that experience of a home. As I continued to contemplate, I realized my memory had indeed faded. As I traced through my memories, I remembered the fond experiences of days gone by and when I looked at the house in those memories, it seemed to always be a different one. I only remember the first one through pictures I've seen. The shag carpet in that house on Sewell was a nice touch to the Christmas photos. The walks with my dog Snuffy and the welcoming of my new baby brother, chronicled again by pictures and faded distant memories, were all that was left of my years on Hwy 36. I was already to two homes by the time I was 3. A move to Midland, TX and the Autumn Chase Apartments brought back memories of learning to ride a bike in the parking lot and releasing my hamsters Pammy and Sammy into the wide open field across the street to enjoy their likely short existence in the wild. It was then back to Abilene and the Warwick Apartments for a short stint before settling into our house on Roberts across from my first school, Crockett. The fort that I "helped" my dad build in the back yard, the broken arm I got falling out of a tree, and the trampoline we got from our grandpa Fayette highlighted that house. Had I really lived in 5 places before 1st grade? The house on San Miguel and the Wychwood neighborhood pool days followed and then it was on to High Meadows and endless football, basketball, wiffle ball, and water balloon barrages on cars passing by. 7 homes by 7th grade and I wasn't done yet. Although I wasn't a child anymore, there was still a significance of home. When totaled, I realized I've lived in 18 different "homes" thus far in my life. I again thought back to Lincoln, the song, and the family in the article. So the family had moved a lot, big deal. I'm sure those kids, like me, had a lot of great memories from the places they'd lived so far. When the song crossed my mind again, she didn't necessarily have to be talking about the same house...maybe it was metaphor about growing up, the feeling of home and the memories made there. I doubt we will be in our house at a time when Lincoln remembers, but as we approach his first birthday, the things I've seen him do in this house will forever be memories for me. It's the place we brought him for his first night away from the hospital...the place where took his first bath in the fabulous blue bathtub we have...the place where he rode shotgun on the stroller as we ran the neighborhood...the place where I saw him take his first steps, learn how to clap, and chase the dogs around the living room...it's home.