WHY? I may have sold my house, we will see, as the propensity for things to go tits up as it has been pretty much a constant from the home for the disabled walking away from the deal to buy the house, ”now they can walk”, And then one buyer asking if someone died in the house which was my mom. What am I supposed to do have a séance? I know my Mom and she is going to yell why she can’t enjoy eternity in peace without my stupid questions.
Now the question is when the time comes where do I go? I only moved once when my parents moved us from Jamaica Estates in Queens to where I live now in Huntington when I was three. I have moved people, but I never moved myself kind of cool and embarrassing at the same time.
The best place for me is a condo but after living on an acre for decades I don’t know what it would be like with people right next to me. I am not a sociable person and have lived on a block where people keep to themselves so I am not really open to small talk and busy body questions.
I also have to find a place for my grand piano which was my mom’s which she got when she was a teenager. The piano has been a center piece for the family for years and years and is a family member so it will be fun to see when people see that thing come into a condo. Thinking I will be keeping them up at night playing it, but truth is it is just for memories sake as I have fourteen keyboards at my disposal.
One thing that must come with me is the mantel over the fireplace. It’s amazing how an object no matter how plain it is, is so special due to the memory connected with it. This mantel was a project that my Mom and I worked on together when I was twelve, we picked it out, we stained it together, and we installed it together and every time I see it brings me right back and this needs to come with me.
With the excitement of moving comes the sadness of leaving a lot of memories, some amazing, some traumatic and sad, but none the less my life has all been under that roof and to know it won’t be there any more is kind of scary.
Even though I have lived here so long I remember when I renovated it back in ninety three when the house made the change from my parents’ house to my house. I watched my childhood bedroom become my office, I watched my mom’s office become my music room. And me making all the changes I wanted.
One factor and one that has been a running gag with family and friends is that since my father died we were always moving the next year with my Mom, and then when she died I never knew if I would be in the house the next year either. When I get my new place I am staying. I want the feeling that I will be there for a while.
I think about my last day there and I honestly don’t know how I will handle it. Will I just close the door and leave? Will I be an emotional wreck? I don’t know. I do want two things, that last day I want an hour alone, to walk room to room, may be take some video to reflect what each room meant to me. Also on the last night I want to sleep in my office which as I said was my old childhood bedroom. That was where I slept the first night I was there at three and that’s the last place I want to sleep all these years later as a man who rose to become one under this roof.