Goodbye Hometown

   When my parents moved to a senior apartment closer to where my siblings and I live, they didn't sell the house right away. This was mostly for the comfort of my father who wasn't sure about moving from the house he built and the town he lived in for neatly 60 years. Now that they have settled in and my dad has accepted that he will not be able to live in the house again, the house is being sold. 

   There were a few things that belonged to me still at the house so yesterday C and I drove down there. I had my house key and a list of things I wanted to take and a few things that my dad wanted.

   It rained the entire way there. C and I chatted and listened to the radio while we headed on the roads south. We went through St. Peter around Mankato and around the hairpin turnoff that dad always warned me about when I drove that way. One of the things I thought about is that this would be the last time I would see that house and go to that town.

   A little clarification is in order here. Some of you may know that when I talk about my hometown, I usually mean a small town in northwestern Wisconsin where I lived with my grandparents off and on. The town in southern Minnesota never felt like home to me. I went to school there and while I did get a very good education, being a special ed student and being bullied made it difficult. There were some good times when I was young, but as I got older I felt lonely and unsafe.

   The last time I lived there was the fall and winter after I finished my graduate internship. I stayed there so I could study for my pharmacy boards. Once I got enough money for an apartment, I moved out. When my grandfather moved in with my parents, I would visit once or twice a month to help out with him. When he went to a nursing home I would visit and go with my mom to visit him in the nursing home. I went back once with C so he could see the town. A couple years after I got married I had a disagreement with my mom which lead her to disowning me. Although my dad and I were on good terms, I was not allowed to visit.

   I had gone back to the house with my dad twice once the estrangement ended. Dad had done a lot of work on the house so it didn't look anything like the house I grew up in. I also noticed that it had the musty smell of an old house. 

   In some ways I'm grateful it doesn't look the same. I was afraid I'd get all sentimental and sad about the house being sold. Since it doesn't look the same and nothing like the house I lived in it is much easier to let it go.

  C and I drove to the house and parked the car. I got my key out and opened the garage door. The garage had a few piles of things that were going to be thrown away. I opened the door into the house and was greeting by the musty old house small that I remembered. The kitchen had a few things on the counters. The dining room table was gone along with the chairs. There were boxes in the dining room. I picked out the box that belonged to me and also the old radio we were going to take. I looked for the things that dad had asked me to being but couldn't find most of them. My siblings had cleared out many of my parent's possessions the new owner had marked much of the furniture for her own use. I was happy about that as I hated to think of it sitting in a landfill somewhere. 

   After we picked up the things we planned to take, I took one last look around. I went all over the basement, where I used to play as a kid and where I used to sleep when I worked nights the summer after my freshman year of college. I went into my parent's bedroom, my old room and the room that was my sister's once our brother moved downstairs. I looked at the living room and the kitchen. I began to cry. So many memories in that house. I locked the door and went out of the garage.

    I went outside and walked around. Several of the trees were going to be cut down due to damage from storms. I looked at the place where our sandbox used to be, the garden where my parents grew vegetables and where dad grew strawberries and raspberries. The flower garden at the back of the house was gone along with the climbing rose. The bushes in the front of the house were not the same as I remembered and all the roses that dad and I carefully tended were also gone. I wiped the tears away as I walked around. 

  We got into the car and drove away. I was grateful that none of my parents' friends had come to say hi. I'm not sure I could have kept my composure. 

   C and I had lunch at a pizza place that had been there for a long time. It was always our favourite place to get a pizza and it was owned by a couple who lived in the neighborhood. As I waited for our pizza to arrive I realize that I would never eat another pizza there. With this in mind I savored every bite.

   There was one more place that I wanted to see. After we got some gas and something to drink for the ride home, we went to the church I attended as a child. Part of me really wanted to go inside and look around. I would never be back there either, but we needed to get back before the traffic got bad.

  As we drove toward the interstate, I began to feel better. I was glad that we had come, but this was no longer my place. My life there ended long ago. We got on the interstate and headed east and north. Toward home.