This Old House
Before I forget, I’ve recently discovered a cache of blank post cards, some from places I’ve been and other not. If you’d like one (or two, or as many as I feel like), with a note from me, please reply to this email with your current address (unless you’re sure I already have it).
Now, on to other business….
Last weekend, I said goodbye to my childhood home. The clock has been ticking ever since my parents separated, but it was still strange to see it on the market.
I made my last visit during the open house. I wanted to catch a glimpse of it through the eyes of those considering it for themselves. It was mostly empty at this point, but some familiar furniture remained behind for staging. And there was no shortage of people walking through.
Since I moved out to go to college, the house has changed many times. New furniture, new carpet, new paint, and in the basement, a new layout. In that sense, it hadn’t been the childhood home that I remembered for quite some time. It was like an old friend. A shape and warmth you recognize, but with a different sense of style and new hobbies.
I think it is better things keep changing. When things show they can change, it feels like they’ll be around for longer.
Making the final steps to leave that open house was difficult. I sat a bit in the garden and contemplated whether Yuling and I should buy it. The house still has a lot of life left in it. The garden is still gorgeous. But eventually I decided it wasn’t a burden I wanted to have. I worried that by owning it myself, I would feel a responsibility to my own memories of what the house was. It wasn’t a responsibility I wanted to take on. I want Yuling’s, Amelia’s, and my own path to be able to go its own way.
I placed my hand on the outside one last time before leaving.
I hope you do well, old friend. I hope many more generations run through your hallways and play in your yard. I hope new eyes will look upon you in new colors. I hope your garage is filled with new projects. I hope your living room crowds with people year after year to celebrate holidays and birthdays. And I hope you get a chance to live a bit longer than the rest of us.
Thank you for the shelter, the warmth, and the memories.
It feels fitting that there is another possession whose future I am contemplating: my old road bike. My parents bought me a silver Novara road bike when I left for college. I was never a prolific rider, but all the same, this bike has been a constant in my world for longer than most other things.
It was with me at all the places I lived throughout college. I frequently biked to class, and to get groceries. And while there was no space for it in our apartment in the International District, it joined me again when we moved to an apartment on Mercer Island (and there was lots of good riding there).
It was with me when I decided to take riding a little more seriously. It took me to work several bellow-freezing mornings the month before Amelia arrived, when Yuling was on prepartum leave and I decided to be adventurous and ride all the way downtown. It got me through my first Chilly Hilly on Bainbridge Island and several other challenging group rides. And most recently, it was the bike I first used to pull Amelia in her trailer.
I bought a new bike this year; a lighter bike that is easier to load, with handle bars that better fit my riding style. But I’m struggling to say goodbye to the Novara. In a way, it is harder than saying good bye to my old house. Every time I think it will be the weekend I take it to a used bike store, I see it there and…it is just hard to imagine not seeing it.
That being said, if you’re looking for a used, steel road bike, let me know. As sad at it is to part with it, the thought of it just rotting away and never being ridden is sadder still. I hope finding a good home for it will make the transition easier. It has been a good friend to me, and I hope it will be a good friend for someone else too.
That’s all for now.
Cheers,
Aleks
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