cindy@greenespeak.com
This is the house that Bob and Cindy built. Well, Bob mostly; I just supervised and stomped my pretty little feet about it every now and then.And in this house we raised two girls and the girls are coming home. For the holidays, not to live, thank God. (Oops, did I say that?)
And you can always tell when the girls are coming back to the house that Bob and Cindy built.
For one thing, Bob has a little extra spring in his step in the yard of this house.
Which I take advantage of for getting some of those little nagging jobs done around here, without nagging Bob the builder of houses.
And on the red door of the house that Bob and Cindy built, a new fake floral item has arrived, my weak effort to appear current.
And the fridge in the cellar of this house is stocked with Coke Zero and Diet Dr. Pepper. You may already know that neither Bob nor I drink that junk. Ick.
The upstairs fridge now features lactose-free milk, orange juice with pulp, mangoes, and funky fat-free yogurt flavors… in the cupboards are donuts and potato chips, as well as numerous baking supplies in case we get in the mood to you know, actually BAKE something in the new stove that sits in the kitchen of this house where Cindy rarely cooks anymore. (It's a struggle to keep Bob from opening the chocolate chips).
I force myself to pick up my craft junk and pile my books and papers in obscure corners in the house that Cindy has cluttered. (I'd like to blame Bob, but we all know I can't). If the girls saw the variety of items I've been making and reading lately, I'm not sure they'd understand….I had not realized how many fungus and moss specimens I've been collecting on my woodland hikes out back of this house built among old oak and hickory trees, an activity in which I was searching mostly for improved mental and physical well-being. The black and white shadow usually lurks me several yards behind me as I walk, like some sort of a timid conscience.
Back inside, I dump out whichever plants have died, which I was supposed to babysit, and I actually fold and put away plenty of towels and washcloths, not just pick them out of the basket, in the house that Cindy neglects, and I find that there's no need to hide the Christmas presents I've been piling up in my office; I think God would have trouble finding anything in there.
Bob, who maintains the cars at our house, spruces up the old brown car and gears up for a week without wheels. Sometimes I swear I hear him humming. Or maybe Spike has a little animal in her mouth....
Speaking of resident felines, by now, Ned starts getting a little cagey, instinctively knowing that the peace he normally enjoys in Bob and Cindy's house will be soon filled with humiliation and infant clothing.
I find myself cleaning and organizing stuff I haven't even touched for months in the house Cindy and Bob dreamed about for many years before our girls were born.
And the first night they're in the house, Bob and I look at each other and smile at the chaos going on directly below us and it reminds us of the days when the house we built was full of kids and animals, ours and who knows who else's. After that first night, however, it gets a little annoying.
And after all this time, I've finally started taking Bob's advice, "Cin, when they're in the kitchen, just stay out." Who knew I am considered too bossy in my own house in my own kitchen where I hand-picked every cabinet, utensil, and pot?
But when everyone, including the orange mouser in the house, has finally quieted down, I snuggle into the knowledge that we're all four together on the same continent, in the same country, not to mention state and city, in the same house that Bob and Cindy started building over 30 years ago, all of us safe and content, at least for this one night.
And that is a housewarming gift without price.
##
