PuddleMonkey

I imagine I’ve probably mentioned this before, but Shawn and I live in the neighborhood where I grew up–the general area, anyway. I guess we probably live about three-quarters of a mile from the house where I spent the better part of 21 years. Very often, we’ll walk the dogs to Cheesman Park, which is located just one black east of the old house, and once in a while we’ll walk past the old house just to see what’s new.

Last night I walked the dogs by myself since Shawn had to work late, and I decided to take a gander by the old house since the present owner has been doing a lot of work to the exterior. Just as I approached, the owner, a single older man named Tom, came out, so I told him that I like the work he’s done. He commented that it was nice of me to notice, so I responded that I was just happy to see someone taking such nice care of the house I grew up in.

That sparked a one-hour conversation and a general tour of the backyard. Tom also took me inside to show me the floor he had installed in the sunroom. He’s done a lot of nice work; I especially loved that he’s tried to make sure that all his rennovations keep with the original style of the house because it’s such a beautiful house filled with such wonderful woodwork. The entire staircase–bannister and spindles–is hand carved, for example.

I still love that house. I have so many fond memories of it, and to get the chance to stand inside it again meant a lot to me. I didn’t feel like I was home, but I definitely felt a great sense of comfort and gratitude for growing up in such a great house.