If I could wrap my arms around a house & hug it, I would have. I left my upstate home of 23 years yesterday shattered. I was 29 when I bought her. It was a blue barn, four bedrooms, beaten up old kitchen, an old deck that looked out onto the most gorgeous pong and mountain view. Without blinking an eye, I bought it. Knowing with my dads hands, we could fix it up.
Over the years it became our family's home away from home. It was a place that brought my brother, his kids, my parents, cousins, their kids, and Julia together. We shared countless s'mores dripping Nutella and melting marshmallows outside over a homemade campfire. We fried turkeys and got grilled thick cut bacon... and lest we forget my dads famous frittatas for breakfast. Aperol Spritz and Negronis for happy hour started at 4... made again, by my dad as the days unwinded.
You never realize how much a person is present until they aren't.
He's everywhere in the house. He built the kitchen with his hands, renovated the two bathrooms, moved walls as my brother and I painted. His shop was there.
Yesterday I sat amongst the sawdust, his dusty blue crocs & perfectly organized screws and bolts stored in Cafe Bustelo coffee cans, as they had been for 40 years... and wept and said my goodbye.