packing and sniffles

19 Jul

I had a minor breakdown last night. Just a small one.

We’ve spent the weekend packing boxes and clearing through hidden drawers and cupboards and moving pot plants to their new homes and generally freaking Cowboy out. (That dog knows something is happening. And that it’s Big. But he can’t quite figure it out and it’s driving him nuts.) Generally, we’ve been Very Efficient. All the easy stuff is packed and now we just have to deal with all the masses of impossible to figure out how/where/whether to pack stuff.

On the subject of “whether to pack”: We’ve thrown out a LOT less than we thought we would. Obviously our days of living without possessions on a boat are far in the future and we *need* all the clutter we’ve accumulated. So we continue to accumulate (but in boxes).

Sorry. This post isn’t supposed to be about packing. Even though that’s all we’ve been doing … back to my meltdown:

Last night, as we were nesting for bed, I just started crying and crying and crying: I’m going to miss 50 Vredehoek. It has homed and witnessed so much of our life together.

In the Beginning (of stoffie n saartjie), Stof was looking for a house and I used to traipse the Sunday afternoon house search with him. Even though neither of us imagined that 6 years later we’d be married (to each other) and living there, we walked through the door that sunny afternoon, looked down the passageway (through the pillars and door frames that entice you in) and grinned at each other. It *felt* like home.

Our house is full of light. And beautiful detail: sanded wooden doors and floors, brass light-switches, 1940’s mezuzot, deco lamp shades, clay fireplace, a spiral staircase that descends to our never-ending basement. We have loved it and made changes that have enhanced its liveablity. Like the wooden ChrisGarratttsquared-built deck outside our COMPLETELY revamped master bedroom (with fabulous bathroom (double showers!) and awesome fitted cupboards) and the space (the space!) in the opened-up living area. The garden is full of our favourite fynbos treasures and Stof’s lemon tree in the front and my leper tree in the back…

Our beautiful house has homed us. It’s witnessed adult arguments and infantile fights. Stompings and ravings and stormings and tantrums and sobbing and snubbing. All that.

But it has seen us build our relationship. In our house we’ve moved from fiery lovers (in each room, mind you!) to closest of friends. We’ve held each other in each other’s lives. Each day we’ve been there (or away from there) it’s been the base for the weaving and knitting of our hearts. We’ve learnt to live together in that house. We’ve learnt to listen and to talk and to plan and to share. We’ve found that the best way is to reach for each other first, and tackle the challenges as two. We’ve realised that home is where the other is.

I love that house with an intensity that isn’t quite acceptable for an inanimate object. I love it’s painted walls and sanded floors, the pretty red roof and even the high skirting boards. I love each step (inside, outside, upstairs, downstairs) and every counter (wooden, marble, tiled). I love the little nooks and the big walls for big pictures. I love all the storage and how safe we feel.

I am excited about our adventures. Ecstatic, even. But, aah, I’m going to miss our house.

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One Response to “packing and sniffles”

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. i’ve got that funny feeling « Stofnsara's Blog - 30 November 2010

    […] stay the same. A segment of my heart wants to carry on living my happy life in our gorgeous home (too late!) and taking our strange little pup for walks on our beautiful Table Mountain. I quite like […]

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