The Houses My Parents Built

When I was ten my parents built a new house for our little family.  We were going to leave Holden and move to the more rural suburb, Oakham.  I remember going with them to meetings with the builder, getting to pick out my carpet, and then walking through the gradual shell of the cape as it staggered towards completion.  My favorite part of those visits was exploring the woods with my little dog, following streams carved out of the melting snow.

Then within weeks of our move-in date, the local board of health refused to pass the inspection of the house.  Because they built the house on the only spot of the 3 acres that perked for a well.  Years later we found out it was a political issue between the builder and the board of health.  My parents got caught in the crossfire.  And lost the house they worked so hard to create with their ideas.

Eventually – before summer – they found another builder and another piece of property a mile away.  I was sad that I wouldn’t get my rose carpet and sad that this new house wouldn’t have memories of my dog that got hit by a car… but it all turned out pretty well in the end.  After a lot of agony for my parents and the begrudging acceptance that my carpet would be blue.

But my sister and I ended up with our own bathroom.  There was more land – more woods – and next door there was a lake.  A whole, completely unadulterated 70 acre lake.  We had a true artesian well that still spouts water.   Within the first year, we met our neighbors who would become second parents to me and best friends to my parents.    It ended up being a much better setting.

It was still our home.  Same furniture.  Same stuff.  Same people.  The building holding all of us and our belongings was different, but not by much.  It just ended up different than the original plan.

The other house eventually sold.  I would walk passed it on my way to visit my friend Tammy or taking an elongated bike ride or these days when I go back, walking the dog.  It’s not a bad house.  But as my mother found out when she joined town government, the septic system requires annual treatment. 

This story floated into my head as I stared mindlessly at my computer screen with yet another debate about my writing.  Sometimes life requires you to take the guts and put them in another room.  While  both structures may be lovely to look at, one has faults underneath.  Better to have a sound foundation for the long run than the immediate satisfaction of completion on shaky ground.  Even if it’s hell to get there.