Buy a House, Sell a Home

When Gabriel was nearing 3, aka the start of pre-school, his father and I actively started searching to buy a house. We had a specific suburb in mind, a smaller community with diversity and family friendly events. I had lived there from the age of 13 until I went to Mount Union College, with a brief return after graduation.

The prospect of owning a home made me feel like a responsible adult. The majority of my family was in the area and Gabriel would attend the Catholic grade school. It was the same Catholic grade school my brother attended from 4th grade through 8th grade. I had known since pregnant, Gabriel would attend this school. Further, I had started my graduate program at Baldwin Wallace College and was looking forward to a closer drive home after evening class.

After spending what seemed like months (in actuality probably a few weeks) and looking at hundreds (alright about 25) houses, we were frustrated. Then my mom saw a house for sale while walking. It was 3 blocks from her. We had our realtor make an appointment despite this proximity.

From the moment we stepped inside the house, it felt like ours. I went left and Gabriel's father went forward, we later came together in the t-shaped hallway, each having viewed opposite parts of the home, and said to one another "this is the one".

We moved in about two months later. We had bought a house!

What I did not realize, is how quickly the house would become a home. Quickly, memories were made between the walls. Love and joy would radiate throughout the foundation, the walls would absorb the pain and heartaches of life.

We focused on the area to be closer to family. Just like I had grown up riding my bike or walking the several blocks to my grandma's, Gabriel in turn would frequent my mom and stepfather's to swim or play basketball. It became a meeting place for him and his cousins. I became thankful for the proximity we once questioned.

Proximity is changing. We are moving.

After 10 years in HR, I have landed my dream position with my dream company, a fabulous opportunity, which will lead to further fabulous opportunities with my continued hard work.

We are moving to Central Illinois. I leave in less than 48 hours.

I haven't packed. I don't know where to start. How does one pack to leave months ahead of their family and go to the temporary housing of a hotel? I am leaving my home, I am leaving my family. I am leaving proximity.

As I look at the walls of my home, years of memories stream through my mind and vivid flashbacks occur as if I am toggling between the Lifetime and Hallmark channels.

Seven in a half years ago, we bought a house. In less than 48 hours, I will leave a home.

Brains, Independence, and Beauty.

I was about 11 or 12 when it happened.

I was sitting on the concrete bleachers at Morgana Park waiting for my brother's baseball game to start. My mom hadn't arrived yet and my dad was most likely either coaching the game or behind the plate umpire at another. None of my friends had arrived at the summer hang out yet, so I sat... people watching.

My mom arrived and sat down not far from me, but not yet seeing me. I was a little perturbed she didn't see me and decided I would not sit by her.

Then it happened.

Two woman sitting near me, had also watched my mom arrive and sit down. The one woman turned to the other and said she is very pretty. I was taken aback, and not just because this was Morgana Park. I had always thought my mom was pretty, but I had never heard a stranger say this.

I was speechless, which was pretty unheard of even back then. I was then filled with a great sense of pride. I found my voice and I said to the women, that's my mom. They looked at me for a few moments, as if studying me, and then smiled at me.

I gingerly got up and went to sit by my mom glancing back at the women and smiling.

I had always known my mom was pretty, but I had never focused on this. I focused on how strong she was, how hard she worked, how she was always at games or plays, always doing everything she could to be a good mother. Due to all this, I never doubted that you could be independent, but in a loving relationship, a career woman and a mom, smart and beautiful.

I never doubted because my mom had shown me my entire life you could.

Happy Mother's Day!

...and I ran...(so far away)

I was a very active child, playing pick up kick ball games in the street, tag in the yard, basketball in the driveway. In grade school, like most kids, I played basketball and volleyball. I played rec league softball. I never played a sport for my high school, I made it the furthest in softball tryouts, and realized quickly my volleyball skills, which had been pretty good at the grade school level, did not compare to these other girls. I was not athletic. My brother, on the other hand, was the athlete--basketball, baseball, football. He always had a game. I always had a play. I was perfectly ok with this. I had no dreams of athletic scholarships. Of course, I loved to hike and rollerblade, I liked to push myself. I just wasn't on a court or a field. Then at 35 years old, I had this crazy fitness idea. I was going to run. ...Not into a store seconds before it closed, not down the street to chase the escaped dog, not to catch the bus. Not even to get the last pair of cute flats in my size. I was going to run for the challenge, the goal setting, to prove to myself I could. and so I started training. I followed an app. I was discplined and dedicated. I registered for a 5K and a 10K. But then I noticed I wasn't getting distance. I got nervous. I reached out to a friend. She made me a plan. I followed it like it was my job. I pushed myself, completed each challenge. Refused to quit. I had the drive, the dedication, the discpline. The accountability. I started getting the distance. Slowly, but like my friend said, a mile is a mile, if you do it in 6 minutes or 15 minutes. Then the strangest thing happend. I started craving it. I couldn't wait to put my shoes on and run. I was accomplishing goals. It felt good. I felt accomplished. I noticed small changes in my body and that motivated me more. I knew it would take time, but that I would get there. Then I got sick. Run down. Stress, worry, life, work. My body had enough. I was sick twice in two months, the last episode putting me down for 3 days. I didn't run. I felt weak, tired, not strong, not good. It would have been easy to say well, that was nice while it lasted. I could have said "well, I was never going to do it anyway." But I am not a quitter. I don't give up. I am tenacious. I am a fighter. So today, I strap on my shoes again. and I run. ...Not into a store seconds before it closed, not down the street to chase the escaped dog, not to catch the bus. Not even to get the last pair of cute flats in my size. But towards my goal--I have a 5k and a 10K approaching.