In all the harried glancing about for houses, apartments, duplexes, and what have you (for Daniel’s Move to the South), I forgot that one side of the splendid little duplex up on the hill from The Valley is available. So while standing in the crowded lobby of Ruby Tuesday’s on Friday night, I made an appointment to meet the landlord.
And around 11:30 on Saturday morning, I drove up the hill and parked my car at the duplex. The landlord was pleasant enough (he seems to be a Real Chatter though) as he took me on a tour.
I think it hit me when I began walking up the blue-carpeted stairs from the garage. I stopped for a minute and I heard him behind me, “Is something wrong?”
As we reached the landing, I turned to him and began to share the story. And surprisingly, I almost couldn’t keep from crying.
“My dad and a friend built this duplex many years ago, I’ve had friends who lived on both sides, my cousins are currently living next door, and I lived here for two years as our home was built.” I spit it out quickly, and he laughed with me as we realized that I certainly didn’t need a tour to discover the floor plan.
But what I couldn’t whisper to him was that the memories were overwhelming.
The late summer of ’93, attempting to help mom unload groceries from the car, walking up that blue-carpeted stairwell. Hearing the phone ring. And in one short moment, my world changed. Mom left to go to the hospital while I put up the soup cans. And as my Papa slipped out of this world, I was happy and carefree. It took many years to realize that I didn’t need to feel guilty for having the music turned up loudly and singing at the top of my lungs while Kevin was banging on the front door.
And the night where we ate supper around the board game. And because I did tend to get hyper and a little too playful while playing games, “Jennifer, stop being silly because you are going to get choked.” His comment began a Horrid little game of copycat in which I repeated everything my mom said, even while choking. Mom and I found it to be quite hilarious but obviously, he didn’t.
I remember having Hannah, Heather and Emily over one night at the duplex and we all piled into my bed. At some point during the night, I woke up and re-fluffed my pillow and then realized that Emily wasn’t in the bed. I got up and rambled through the living room, kitchen, checked the bathroom, and suddenly panicked. I woke Hannah and Heather and we began the Massive Search. It wasn’t until we glanced back into my bedroom that we saw her foot sticking out from underneath my bed.
And when we began packing the boxes for the move to the New House, I remember my mom finding my old (lovable, cuddly, wonderful) Pooh bear. And because he had been stored in the damp garage, next to old yucky things, we found a bit of mold on him. Mom decided that obviously, he was going to have to be thrown away and I became quite upset. We both argued and fussed about it for a while and she ended up giving him to me with the understanding that he would have to have “surgery.” Well, knowing my frustration level, I’m not surprised that in an attempt to make her mad, I raised the window in the living room and sent my Pooh bear sailing through the air into the back of my dad’s truck (where the trash was waiting).
So, I have no idea what the next few weeks will hold. Each little place I look at is adorable (especially the little stone cottage behind 200 Russell) but I’m trying to remember that there is a bigger plan here and that the Doors will open when they need to be opened.
And, if the Duplex on the hill is The Place, then I’ll simply prepare myself for a collision of old memories and new.