So today starts a new beginning. Yeah, I’m being dramatic, but for some reason, something hit me this morning as I prepped and re-prepped our house to start showing as early as today. I’m being told it will go fast, but I can already hear the ticks of the clock on the way slowing down. I apparently have a disposition of cautious optimism.

So yes, the house went live this morning. Found it on the internet, and paged through the pictures. Oddly enough, my brain went where it normally does – far far back recalling various memories. For those who really know me, and sadly there are only a few, this is not a surprise.

The first pics are all outdoors. I see the insane fireworks shows we put on in the front yard. I see the dunking contests on the basketball goal. I see the couple of small dents in the garage door from throwing lacrosse balls. I see my kids on an Easter egg hunt. I see bags of mulch and hours of mowing. I see the magnolia tree planted to remember my father in law. I see my Dad helping me replace the light fixture out front. 

From the backyard, I see the games of wiffle ball and my nasty hanging curve that usually ended up in the neighbors yard three doors down. I see trampolines and high school kids all piled on top of each other after an overnight. I smell my smoker and all the meals I was so proud to create for my family. I see my wife getting some sun on the deck. I see nights under the canopy watching football. I see Dad sitting in the chair watching the Royals play and telling me how nice it was.

I remember all the dogs. Bailey taking on the raccoon, and Molly barking at all passerby’s. I see Butch rolling in the grass. I see Tucker opening the gate and going on adventures, eventually making it back to the front porch until we let him back in. I remember Marley being the yard hunter, working his way through the tall grass. I remember Lucy and Murphy as puppies sniffing all about. I remember Scout jumping the fence for the umpteenth time, but always looking grateful he had a home to come back to.

Inside, it’s Christmases. That first year with the boys anxiously awaiting the all clear to see if Santa found us. The painting. The laughing during our seafood dinners with my mother in law. The hearing of my mom telling stories of her childhood around the kitchen table. The bottle caps being hidden in the mouths of nutcrackers at Christmas. The shock of seeing the hole in the wall when the boys had to find the right radio station when pulling in the garage or when one pushed the other into the laundry room wall. I see the stickers on the doors that may never come off. I see the fishes painted on the wall for when we brought Logan home. I see the bedrooms turned into offices when the pandemic hit. I see a home ready for more memories that someone else will create.