What’s the oldest thing you own that you still use daily?
I saw this prompt earlier today and it kind of stumped me. I have things that are old, but I don’t necessarily use them daily. But then, as I stood at the kitchen sink, washing dishes by hand because we don’t have a dishwasher, I realized that the house I live in with my husband is the answer. There’s a long, but simple history of our house. It was built in 1942 and was bought by his parents at some point in the 60s.
My husband is the youngest of three sisters. While they are each only a couple years apart in age, there is a significant age gap between them and their little brother. Since the purchase of the house in the 60s, all four siblings were raised in this house. It’s not a large house, originally only two bedrooms and one bathroom. Over the years, their father made many improvements such as enclosing the screened in porch and making it a third bedroom. He also built an extension onto the back porch that became a family room with many windows, a vaulted ceiling and French doors that opened onto the patio. Still, only one bathroom, which has always made me wonder how three teenage girls managed to survive with only one.
There is much history to this house. It has been the home for not only my husband and his immediate family, but from stories I have been told, other relatives have lived here for short periods of time when in most need at various times. Even I lived here for several years when I was finishing my undergraduate degree and starting my first teaching job. I had met my husband a few years before that and when my own parents went their separate ways leaving me without a home base, my mother-in-law didn’t hesitate to open her home to me. It would be many more years before she was officially my mother-in-law, but even as just her son’s fiancé, she welcomed me in. Her husband had passed when my husband was in high school in the 90s. And when her own time came, she passed in this house. This October it will make three years since her passing. She left this house to her son and though I was hesitant at first, we agreed that we would return to his family home and make it our own. We had been living the apartment life for the nearly 15 years prior to us taking ownership of the house.
The house is old. There are many repairs that we need to make and sometimes I feel frustrated that we don’t have more time to do the things we have talked about doing. Full time jobs and grad school simply don’t allow for anything other than keeping up with day to day chores. But I know that this house is our forever home. We have the rest of our lives to make repairs and do what we have talked about. In the meantime, I can’t imagine living anywhere else. And I’m sure my husband probably can’t imagine anyone else living here. This house belongs in his/our family, where it has been for about the past 60 years. There is history here. I sit in the living room and watch the tv that we have mounted above the fireplace and I marvel at the pictures I have seen that show my husband’s mother and father standing in front of the same fireplace 40 years ago. They are with one of his sisters who is holding the first grandchild. Everybody is looking at her and smiling. I can’t quite figure out the word for how I feel when I think about all that has taken place in this house and how we are continuing the tradition and keeping the legacy alive. Whatever the word is, it’s a positive word because this old house that we use every day, simply means home. And home is a good thing.
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