The Cabin

After my mother passed away, my brother and I wondered what might become of our father. We were all shocked by her sudden death that came only 23 days after being diagnosed with cancer. She was the heart of our family, married 50 years to our father and every bit his rock. We weren’t sure if he’d survive the heartbreak, but survive he did.

In the ten years since her death, he’s seen a lot of changes in our family and has had to acknowledge a few changes in himself. He’s been able to watch his grandsons grow up, graduate from high school and proceed through college. He was able to celebrate Calvin’s college graduation. He’s been able to see the beautiful heirloom diamond that was once owned by his father reset as Vicki’s engagement ring. We expect him to take a seat of honor at the wedding next June.

He’s been able to see Henry become an important part of my life and has welcomed him as part of the family.

He said goodbye to his beloved home in Florida in order to move with my brother and his wife to North Carolina, mostly for reasons associated with aging. In the past four years his mobility has declined but his mind has stayed sharp. His favorite phrase right now is “Growing old is not for sissies.” He turned 80 earlier this year.

He can be pleasant, kind, joyful and loving. He can be grumpy, ornery and stubborn. My brother and I have a favorite phrase, “Being the child of an aging parent is not for sissies.”

Earlier this month, I spent a week with my Dad while my brother and sister-in-law went on vacation. I took leave from work, packed a week’s worth of things to do to keep me busy and settled in. Dad is pretty low-maintenance. He likes to watch TV, read the paper, play Rummikub, eat and nap. Which fit well with my agenda, because I planned to watch movies, read, play Rummikub, cook and paint. The week reminded me of the slow, easy-going respites I enjoyed so much in the Florida home. Just no kids and no pool! But the feeling was the same: warm, comforting, cloistered, safe. I used to call Florida my sanctuary, but it wasn’t Florida, the feeling came from being near my mother and father.

I started a painting while staying at Dad’s, a watercolor of a cabin in the woods in an autumn setting. I was working from a photo, but it wasn’t any cabin in particular, I just liked the colors. As I progressed from day to day, I noticed Dad looking at the painting a lot and once he offered a compliment. I could tell he liked it. At the end of the week I asked him he would like to have it. I didn’t have to wait for the answer. I had it matted and framed at a local frame shop. I was happy I could leave behind a memento of our week together.

So what does this chapter have to do with a child leaving home? Maybe nothing, maybe everything. We leave home and then one day we realize that we’ve become home. When my children come back to the nest, I hope it will always be a place that is warm, comforting, cloistered, safe. Like a cabin in the woods.

Putting Down Roots

Before the moving-in dust had time to settle, my future daughter-in-law Vicki found a job—a contract position in the human resources department at Microsoft. It was very important to her to get a job in order to contribute to the household and pay her expenses, but also because it’s what you’re supposed to do after graduation. The contract will take her through May and we’re hoping it will be the window to a permanent position.

Leaving home and family and moving almost 3,000 miles across the country is not an easy feat. Harder still, is the knowledge that the home you left behind may no longer be there when you come back. As Vicki prepared for her move to Seattle, her brother was bound for his freshman year at college and her parents were diligently working to put their family home on the market. A move to southern Virginia is planned.

Saying goodbye to the house you grew up in can almost seem overwhelming, but I've discovered that everything important about a house lives inside you. The house is just a shell. And if you are close in heart to your parents, it doesn’t matter where they live, because they are “home” and always will be.

My parents bought the house I considered my childhood home when I was almost seven. I lived there for over 16 years, about half the time they actually owned the house. When I moved out, I stayed in the area, which meant there were frequent visits over the next 16 years as I got married and had kids. How interesting though, that I only spent one night there during all that time and that was during our move from my first house in Crofton to my current house in Frederick.

When my parents decided to sell and move to Florida, it was a bittersweet moment. After 33 years in the same house, it was hard to imagine anyone but mom and dad living there. But they were retired; my brother had been living in Florida for some time and the plans to move had been in the works for a while. Besides, a house with a pool in warm, sunny Orlando, Florida sounded like a dream. I think the hardest thing to think about was the fact that my boys, the only two grandchildren, were going to be so far away from their grandparents.

I was still married when my parents moved, but things weren’t good and the marriage ended abruptly a year later. It was devastating to be suddenly alone with two small children, no job (I had been a stay-at-home mom for nine years), no financial resources, no family close by and no clear picture of the immediate future. I’ve thought about my mom and dad receiving this news so far away and how difficult it must have been for them to accept this new reality. I never let on to my parents completely about the state of my marriage; they had some idea but they always trusted my judgment. If my parents had known the true state of my marriage, I’m not sure that they would have felt comfortable moving. I recently asked my dad if they would have moved had the marriage ended prior to their selling the house. He said probably no. How sad it would have been to not have our Florida memories!

Sometimes the sequence of life’s events leaves us wondering Why me? Why now? It can be amazing how things often work out for the best. The Florida years were some of the most wonderful in my life and I know my kids feel the same. Some of our best memories and one of our saddest were made during trips to our home away from home. And that is exactly what Florida became. It became “home”. When the time came for my dad to move, saying goodbye to that house was actually harder than saying goodbye to my childhood home. For one reason, it was only my dad who was moving, as my mother had passed away six years prior. Once again though, every memory we took away, we treasure. All that we left behind was a shell. Home really is where the heart is.

Work is a Four Letter Word

For those of us whose college years are far behind them, we still can remember the all-nighters of cramming for exams, writing term papers, or the 11th hour scrapping of a going-nowhere project with an 8 a.m. deadline just to start over on a new idea that might actually work. We dreamed of the day when there would be no more homework, papers, reading assignments or projects, just the freedom of working and earning a living! Of course, the rigors of college were tempered by the social attributes and fall break and semester break and spring break and summer break. Oh, to have it all again. We’d enjoy it SO much more the second time around because we are SO much wiser now.

Working for a living is not for sissies. Of course it helps immensely if you like what you do, but even a job that’s loved can get boring and routine. And sometimes there are STILL homework and reading assignments and reports to write. Just no more sleeping in and showing up late for that 10 a.m. meeting. The parties have all but gone, but there are still tests: of patience, of stamina, of sanity, when dealing with work overload, incompetence and office jerks. And you still get graded once a year! Ahhhh, but then the paycheck arrives every second Friday.

Calvin was destined to be a programmer. He was born to think in numbers. I realized this when he was in first grade. He came to me one day and said he had just written down every number from one to one thousand. He had several sheets of notebook paper in his hand. Of course any Mom would say, “That’s great!” Then he added, “In Roman numerals” and handed me the papers. I had to sit down and take a look. I still have those papers.

He was intrigued at an early age by all types of games, computers and stories. And it wasn’t just playing video games; it was how does it all work? So twenty plus years later, it is no surprise to find him at Microsoft, thinking in numbers and doing what he loves. The new job is going well, but reality has tiptoed in, in the form of 7 am meetings, waiting for vacation to accrue, they took how much?!? in taxes, saying “where did the week go?” and spending the weekends doing “housework and grocery shopping”. Welcome to the real world.

Sammamish View Apartments

Washington State has some very fun-to-say place names like Snoqualmie, Issaquah and Sammamish. Much like Maryland, many of the place names in and around Seattle are Native American in origin, it’s just more challenging to try and pronounce them.

Part of moving, of course, is finding a place to live. Microsoft’s relocation package included 30-days of temporary housing and a 10-day car rental upon arrival so Calvin and Vicki began their apartment search in advance of moving. They had the car covered since Vicki’s Honda was being shipped from Maryland. They decided that they would try living with just one car as Calvin planned to use public transportation to get to work.

About a week before departure, I came home from work and Calvin said he had news. He and Vicki had rented an apartment. It was one he had showed me about a week prior, a garden apartment community with a view of Lake Sammamish, two bedrooms, two baths and less than a mile to work—he could walk. Now this was one of those classic Mom moments, when I SHOULD have said, “That’s great news! I’m so happy you got the apartment you wanted.” BUT instead I said, “You did what? Rented an apartment without seeing it first? What if it’s not nice? What if all the furniture doesn’t fit? Did you get the dimensions of the rooms? I would never rent an apartment without seeing it first!”

The look on his face was wounded puppy. He said, “Gee mom, I was proactive and made an adult decision on my own. And it’s not like Vicki and I didn’t do our research. It’s the largest apartment we could find within our budget and there was only one two bedroom unit available for August, which is what we need. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

I WAS happy for him. I’ve actually never rented an apartment in my life so how would I know whether or not I’d rent one without seeing it first, given the same circumstances. It’s just that the “Mom knows best” urge erupted before I could think about it. Well, sometimes the Mom just has to remember to butt out. And apologize.

After all, the apartment is nice and all of the furniture fits. Thanks to laptop cameras and the power of the Internet, I’ve had the grand tour. It has a great kitchen, an amazing balcony and there really is a view of Lake Sammamish. Plus, I get to say Sammamish.