I miss my house.
As I sat on my apartment balcony, drinking my morning coffee, I looked at the vast blue sky as I drank in the sun’s unseasonably warm rays. The trees in their russet and crimson colors stood calm in their beauty, and I heard a few birds singing. I found it odd to still hear the birds chirping away at this mid-November time of year. I wondered if they had perhaps become confused by the extreme weather changes we’ve been experiencing these past few weeks, from seasonably cold to mild and spring-like; hence, not signaling winter’s near arrival.
Although the weather hasn’t been consistent, the now empty flower pots lined up against the wall on my balcony, remind me of the cold winds and temperatures we’ve had in late October causing the flowers to shrivel and die. I began thinking about the flowers I so lovingly tended to in my old house – the home I moved away from only 10 months ago. I recalled that with every change in weather, my flowers and plants would react.
By this time of year, I’d have already prepared blankets of burlap to wrap around the feeble trees and shrubs to defend them against winter’s onslaught of wind and snow. I couldn’t help but wonder if the new owners would do the same.
I thought about the beautiful shed my husband built with his brothers that housed all of our garden tools and furniture. And then I thought about how we have given all those things away because we’d no longer have use or storage for them.
No longer would I carry the groceries from my car directly through the garage door into the house. It’s now become a long walk through the underground parking, through the building corridors, up the elevator and back down the corridor to my door after bundling my groceries into an old shopping buggy I’d kept for decades.
It’s strange how I kept that shopping buggy from the days I lived in my little apartment – the one I moved into when I left the family home and my childhood behind. That buggy has been with me for over 35 years.
When I met my husband and we built our first home, he wanted to toss the shopping cart. I told him we never know when it may come in handy. He laughed as he shook his head and called me a packrat.
We threw the cart up on the storage shelves he’d built in the garage and there it sat until we moved 3 more times, and by then he no longer threatened to throw it out, but stored it neatly at the back of yet another shelf in each consequent house we moved to.
When we moved here this past winter, the handy cart helped me carry numerous loads of items back and forth up from the house to the car to the condo. And then I reminded my husband about how convenient this little cart had been and how handy it will be for bringing up groceries from the car.
Sure the old buggy has lost its shiny, silvery, luster, and one of the legs is missing its rubber capped foot, but I’ve had it for decades and it’s served its worth thousands of times over. Besides, they don’t build things the way they used to; built to last.
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