Sweet Spruce Street

Two years ago I wrote this post about my parents' house. Go ahead and read it.  I'll wait for you to come back.

You know how I said I wished I had some pictures of my own childhood to include?  Well, I now happen to have some on my computer from the slide show I made for the anniversary party this summer.  Take a look:

The Megans, me and our dog Bart on the front porch.  Bart was notorious for running all through town unattended and chewing the crotch out of any underwear left on the floor.  What a lovely dog!   

I know that this is from 5th grade because of my dress.  One of my good friends and I had the same dress for our 5th grade Christmas chorus concert.  I also remember that my grandmother was very sick at Christmas that year.  She tried to come to the concert (my first), but she had to leave early in the show.  She slept in the car until it was over, because she was too weak to sit through the performance.  

My parents' wedding - August 1, 1987.  I always chuckle when I look at these pictures because you can see my neighbor's daughter watching through their upstairs bedroom window.  I would have watched too, of course, but I bet she didn't know she was going to be in all of their wedding pictures! 

I'm pretty sure this was 1994.  It was the same year the mall burned down.  Blair county folks, was that '94?  We got a heck of a lot of snow that year! 

One of many visits from one of my dad's dearest friends.  

Megan's birthday?  My birthday?  Not sure.  I was still in high school, because the kitchen hadn't been remodeled yet.  Nice hat, right?  Wish I still had it! 

Oh my goodness...this was taken before my mom tore up the old brown carpet, and before they had decent living room furniture.  Must be the winter of 1987 - me, Megan and our dog, Nick.  He was notorious for unprovoked biting.  We really didn't have good luck with dogs.  

So why am I posting pictures and referring to a post that I wrote two years ago?  Well, because the time has finally come for my parents to move.  Close to three years ago, my dad was diagnosed with a very rare form of lymphoma.  We recently found out that he also has leukemia.  I'm not going to go into the details of his illness and the treatment. I will simply say that the prognosis isn't great.  He is on the waiting list for a bone marrow transplant, but at this point, there's not much more that can be done besides pray, and to try to prepare for what the future will bring.  Part of that preparation includes moving to a home which is more accessible for a person who is ill.  

Thankfully, they found a home not far from where they currently live.  It has a bedroom, full bath, and study on the first floor.  The inspection went well, and so far the purchase has gone smoothly.  We haven't started actually moving their things yet, but we will soon.  There's a lot to be done, for sure.  

I know I said I wasn't going to complain, so I really hope that this entry doesn't come across as whiny. I don't mean to whine at all.  In fact, I am filled with gratitude as I type these words.  I am grateful that my parents were able to find another home while my dad is still capable of participating in the decision making.  I'm very grateful that they will be less than a mile away.  However, the truth is that my gratitude is also tinged with sorrow.  While I can find hours of joy remembering the years of living within those walls, on the porch and in the yard, I am also terribly saddened at the thought of leaving the house which was part of our family for 70 years.  

I often reflect on the fact that my life could have turned out very differently than it did.  I was born into a situation that had the potential to be rather detrimental to a child's development.  But my mom had the support she needed to rise above a kind of chaos that traps many people for generations.  Because of her strength, my sister and I had everything we needed.  Sure, some things could have been better, but no one has a perfect childhood.   I can genuinely say that when I look back now, I am actually grateful for all of my life experiences, good or bad.   No, life wasn't perfect, but it was pretty darn good.  And it was good in large part, due to the fact that my mom married Terry.  Together they gave us a stable home in a nice neighborhood with a good school district.  Together they gave us a normal, happy family life with dogs, cats, fish, bunnies, a squirrel, a couple of lizards, a few guinea pigs, a few mice, and a turtle!  I'm joking (well, not really, we did actually have all of those animals, just not at one time!).  In all seriousness, we were given a good life, and that life was lived on Spruce Street.  No matter where I went, from Meadville to Pittsburgh, Berlin to the Bahamas, I always knew that Spruce Street was home.  As much as I love my current house  (and I do really love it) , I still consider Spruce Street my home.  Some thing you just don't outgrow, and my childhood homestead is one of those things.  

It's going to be very hard to leave that house behind.  It's going to be even harder to walk by it and see someone else living in it.  I worry very much about Jacob and how he will cope with the change.  And I worry about my dad, not just for his health, but also for how he will cope with leaving the house he has called home for nearly 70 years.  I pray that God will give us all the strength to endure whatever the future holds with grace and dignity.  But in the meantime, I thank God for the wonderful foundation that was laid inside that house.  I am blessed to have called it my home for almost 30 years, and I will continue to be grateful for those times, that home, until the day I die.  To someone else, it may just be four walls and some flooring, but to me it means so much more.  To me, it will always be home, even if only in my heart.