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Life as a House.

Today we are selling my grandparent’s home, a house that’s been in our family for over 87 years. Built in 1925 by my great uncle, Harold Howie, my great-grandmother purchased it from him after the premature death of my great-grandfather, and lived there with her three children (one being my grandfather). My grandfather ultimately bought it from ‘Gigi’ soon after he and my grandmother (who lived across the street) were married. They raised their two children there (my mother and uncle) and remained in the house until his death seven years ago and my grandmother’s passing last Thanksgiving.

At Easter, our extended family took the opportunity to gather at the house and had a toast under the portrait of ‘Gramere’ – raising our glass to past memories and new beginnings.

In walking through the house, I took pause to reflect on every minutiae, previously gone unnoticed or taken for granted over a lifetime of sleepovers, family gatherings and long distance visits.

The decorative beams in the dining room hand-hewn by my grandfather, ‘Capt. Bob’, a consummate woodworker.

The remains of the basement ‘checkerboard’ floor from my Mom’s first boy/girl party that she and my Grandfather meticulously painted together…

My grandfather’s ‘graffiti’- once obscured and unnoticed, now in plain sight.

The old-fashioned, heart shaped lock on Capt. Bob’s backyard studio.

This carved declaration, like initials on a tree, inside the handmade cedar closet.

Now, in the wake of the sale, we’re all slowly coming to terms with the reality of the passing the deed to a new young family with children. Soon, they will find their own details to love. I treasure mine that much more.

I love you, Gramere and Bob.


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