Bittersweet

Well, the good news is that it appears we've sold Mom's house. The bad news is that it appears we've sold Mom's house. I did not spend that much time in the house...barely a year and a half after coming home from the Army in 1970. But for my younger two siblings, the house represents a significant chunk of their childhood.

Yesterday, the irony of selling the house was brought home to me (so to speak). I was waiting for a sub-contractor to arrive and look at some small repairs that will need to be done very soon. I had eaten lunch and this guy wasn't due by until nearly 2 PM. Since the house is bereft of furniture, and since I value naps more than my AARP card, there was little to keep me from stretching out on the living room carpet and grasping a few zzzz's. But as I lay there, the memories from the past 39 years began to seep into my brain - specifically, the family stuff that had occurred in that very room.

The room shares space with a dining room, in fact my feet were in the dining room while my head was clearly in the living room. Every year, there would be at least two magnificent meals served there - Thanksgiving and Christmas. Mom would spend hours whupping up home cooking at its finest; then when we all sat down to eat, she would either serve us continually or hold the ever-present grandbaby in her lap. She would grab a bite here and there, but her joy was always service.

The room was also Ground Zero for opening Christmas presents after the aforementioned meal. Who will ever forget my parents' aluminum tree with the color wheel...the one they used even into the 21st century? Or the night Brett, Blake, Drew, and Casey ALL got remote-controlled emergency-response vehicles? It sounded like Ground Zero! I also remember it as the place where Mom and I had long talks about her failing health, what that meant for the family, and about her longing to be with Dad again.

And all these memories came flooding through my consciousness as I pondered whether I should ease into a nap. I could have easily succombed to all of it and cried my eyes out. But these were all happy memories, unblemished by sadness or permanent good-byes. And after a few minutes, I drifted off to sleep.