Moving

I could write about moving, since I should be getting my shit together to sell my latest place. Thoughts about my first home creeped in today...Who knows why thoughts creep into our minds. Scents bring them on for me. And random thoughts that lead to others and end there. Anyway, my first home was my grandma's house. My mom was 16 and my dad was 20 when they found out they were expecting me, so my mom moved into my dad's place, and his place was his mother's. It was a cement block house with two bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, bathroom, a back room that was my bedroom but didn't seem like a bedroom, and a big enclosed porch. I have a lot to say about that place, and will save it for later.
We moved from there when I was five or so, while my mom was pregnant with my brother. It was pretty exciting, because I found out I was moving right next door to Billy, a kid who rode my bus and was in my grade. We were friends. We once made a pact under the stars in the grass between our yards that if we didn't find other people we'd marry each other. I guess making the pact that we would get married to each other would mean we were boyfriend and girlfriend and we didn't want to mess up our friendship.

The house in Norrisville was where I grew up. Since this chapter isn't about the homes themselves, but about moving, I'll stick to the point. I moved from there when I was 17. I graduated from high school with no real direction and ended up in beauty school. That was better than the Navy, which was the other option. See, I had to do something bigger in my life than get a job and live life in Pennsylvania. That never crossed my mind, nor my parents'. I moved into my cousin's house, and less than a year later, moved back home. I can't really remember why. Maybe it will come to me.

Some of the best times of my life were in the next place I lived, a boarding house for girls in Erie. The room was $45 a month, and we shared a kitchen and a bath. It was fun. And it was the first time I truly felt I was on my own at 18. On hot nights the girls and I would drink cold beers and watch TV in front of the fan in our nightgowns and underwear. I learned how to make stuffed pork chops there with Stove Top stuffing.

I moved into my friend, Ginnean's house she was living in. It was her grandmother's house, but she lived there by herself. That was short-lived. I didn't feel very welcomed there. My 'boyfriend' had contributed to that feeling. He was a brute-ass, looking back.
I moved back to my cousin's place in Ohio for a short stint, then into an apartment of my own on Dorothy Drive in Parma at $100 a month. It was a cute place, but I still felt like it wasn't "mine" because it was the upstairs of my cousin's brother's place. Then I moved in with Joe, a house on West 12th. We had fun there, but it felt like I was just living in his house, which, I was. We bought a house together in Brunswick. Leia was born while we lived there. Her nursery was pale green with little baby animals on the wallpaper. We moved to Valley City. We always used to drive that road and wish we lived there someday. And we did for almost twenty years.

I got my apartment in Strongsville. I met David while I lived there. Was there for two years, then bought my own place, a cut townhome from an old guy who flagged me down on the street. I got to know Carl and Betty pretty well and when Betty died, Carl made sure to call me. We took him out for wings and a beer one time at Cleats. I took some peonies that were Betty's favorite to his apartment the following spring, but other people were living there. I found out later that Carl passed away.

David and I just bought our own house in Meadowood. It was on the market one day. We both fell in love with the open floor plan and the wooded, manicured lot with very little grass. I hope to be there awhile.

All in all, I lived in ten places. Meadowood will make eleven. We talk about making it twelve, somewhere down the line. Somewhere near water, somewhere warm. Doesn't everyone who grew up in the northern US dream the same?