Being in the town where my Dad's family lived brought up a lot of memories. We used to go visit my grandfather there every summer, in his beautiful house. I drove over there and just sat in the car outside the property like a huge creep. I remember everything. If I close my eyes I can still navigate the majority of the house, circa 1992. I know where things were and how they smelled. Which drawer my favorite spoon (yeah, I had one, whatever) was kept in. I would remember the cat getting out and having to search for a dark-colored cat on an already sticky black night was not exactly fun. But there was the pool where I learned to swim, and the basement where oddly the smell of dust and mold was super comforting...most likely because everything in there brought me closer to my Dad and Grandfather. Oh, there's Dad's surfboard. Some model trains. A lot of books and suitcases, and the bizarre stuff we all keep in basements or attics. It was all important.
We're not even sure if M & D will be able to relocate. Mostly it will depend on Dad's health, his reaction to the idea of moving (it is very hard for someone with dementia to approach change, especially drastic change) and finances....you can't buy a house until you've sold your current one! That was another thing to consider - selling their house. My parents have owned their home for decades. When they were active duty and we moved around, we rented the house out. Lots of renovations were put in. It's a beautiful, cozy, happy place to raise a family...but much too big now for my mom to take care of on her own. I'd be sad to see it go, but then again, I have no plans to move back either! When I feel sad about it, I think about one of the apartments we saw...it was pretty much everything Mom has ever wanted. Space. Light. Water view. And we can afford it. I think we maybe saw the perfect place, far far before we were ready to. But she deserves every happiness that can be given to her, because the retirement I'd hoped she and Dad would have was taken away by his illness. That is simply what it is. There won't be travel. There won't be holidays in the sun. There aren't even the simple joys of quiet nights at home together. It fucking sucks. So if a new location, with a little clean sea air can make her happy, then God help anyone who tries to stop me from getting it for her.
I could live here. Too bad I'm not a senior citizen.
I love house/apartment hunting. I'm the person who goes "We'll take it!" if I see something remotely cool. (Nobody takes me seriously, but I'd probably be a terrible choice to bring to an auction.)
I'm such a sucker. Probably because I've lived in more than my fair share of shitty apartments, and the idea of space and air, and light and views other than that of a basketball court or alleyway signify real progress in life. These are the pleasures of adults. Note my wistful gazing out at this clean, shiny, fresh life. Is that what we want when we move? A clean, shiny fresh shot at life?
Putting M on a train home today was such a downer. I miss her so much already.
