Home to house

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Just like that…a few hours and a few paintings off the wall and our home starts to transform into a house. it sinks in..we are moving..and what we have been planning and discussing for so long suddenly seems real..right now…it’s happening. This is what it looks like.

Sure, we’ve moved before. But every time it is a different experience. Each place becomes a part of us and it is not easy to just leave it all and move on. And yet we manage. With as simple an action as taking a much loved painting off a wall. The painting that caught the sun’s rays in the morning and cast a warmish orange glow onto the bench below it. The rosewood bench with cane seating that took up that warmish glow and invited me to sit down for another cuppa warm ginger tea.

And the boys with their ‘nice’ and ‘marie’ and ‘parle g’ biscuits, waiting to dip into my tea and drop half the soggy biscuits into it.

The walls look so bare today and our stuff is beginning to occupy the floor of a couple of rooms in neat segregated piles for convenient packing. The art supplies sit perfectly placed in two large plastic tubs, the art papers in envelopes…the kids art is off the walls too…their tell tale fingerprint smudges are being wiped off with soap and sponges like they never were here…like they did not belong.

I sigh as i pluck each glow in the dark star off the wall, thinking of the many nights of excitement when the boys would wait for the lights in the room to go off and the stars would start shining. I watch as the painter quickly plucks the mirrors and sequins off the wall in our reading corner. The turquoise blue tree we had painted there, with brightly colored leaves and funky plumed birds is scraped off and painted over in half an hour and the reading corner makes way for just another corner by a window. Shel Silverstein’s poem ‘Listen to the musn’ts’ that is painted under the tree resists the makeover and the lines peer out faintly from under a hastily applied coat of paint. But i am sure they will disappear tomorrow when the painter comes back.

The boys watch, a little worried, as I create a pile of things to give away – things i feel they are ready to outgrow – but they don’t seem as sure, and every now and then a random baby toy is quickly pulled back from the ‘give-away’ pile. They check and double check that all their books and their lego are making the trip with us and I try to assure them as best as i can. It is less about the object and more about the stories that they hold…even the smudges on the wall have a story to tell and i try to remember them before they get erased and deleted.

I know that we will move into a house and soon it will turn into a home as well…as we put parts of ourselves into it, a painting here, a piece of furniture against a wall, a corner that we will cuddle into to read our favorite books…but a part of us will be left here and a part of this house will forever be a part of our memories and selves.

This home has been wonderful for us..we have loved every part of it and it has loved us back!

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About myfourboysandme

Mom - a word that defines me... I smell of oats, johnson's and home baked cookies I am pink, purple, green and orange and so is the floor my kids color on. Flour on my clothes and a brush in my pocket, my glasses bent out of shape and smudged with tiny fingerprints. I can't remember the date but i know almost 40 pictures books by heart. I wake up humming 'wheels on the bus'and i talk with my fingers and eyes and mouth. My bag carries band aids, napkins, wipes, crayons, papers, candy and sometimes my wallet. I know all the parks and very few of the restaurants in my neighborhood. Most of my shopping is diapers, books and paints My phd certificate lies in a roll, the frame now contains an abstract work of art by two year olds and i am prouder of that piece of paper. mom - a word that defines me!

One response »

  1. Wish we’d hung out a bit more than one time, Gauri. Hope you, D and the kids have a smooth transition back – will keep in touch over the blog. That at least! šŸ˜€

    Love Shel Silverstein.

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