For Rent

A house is but bricks, wood, and mortar. Inanimate, unemotional, and careless things personified by our own vivid perceptions of warmth, security, and comfort. Of all things that I am attached to in Tennessee, the house that I am leaving behind ranks among the hardest from which to drive away. I have lived here for seven years, and this house is the only home my sons, Keats and Kye, have ever known.

During years one, three, and five, this house became a home for me through three year-long deployments. During year four, my husband and I undertook the most difficult kitchen renovation I have ever participated in completing. This same year, we got busy with our gardens, and today they are a pleasure to amble around and admire.

During year two, Keats took a pink highlighter to every stick of brand new furniture in our living room. His encore took place two years later when he buried his arms up to his elbows in a paint can full of blue wonder and proceeded to finger paint on the wall, carpet, and dresser--all within the space of a neglectful, two-minute-long conversation.

During year seven, I hosted my first crab boil with two of my dearest friends in attendance. We ate so much crab my fingertips pruned. During year five, I started my master's degree, and in year seven I completed it.

In year six, Keats started kindergarten.

There is more--a lot more. Memories upon memories, like brick on brick, laid to form the mental mortar of attachment and endearment. But, I have not the time nor inclination to recall every memory at this time. I want only the one memory that sends us hither. The one memory that requires me to stir my adventurous bones and prod my quotidian sluggishness.

The memory: In year seven, our family was notified that my soldier husband would PCS to Germany with his family.

Hence, I say goodbye to this house, this house which was more of a home than I ever could have dreamed it would be when first I came to Tennessee. This home, our home, will be dearly missed and beloved for the human perceptions of good living, familial growth, and steady comfort that I have known since I have lived here.

A blessing to the dwellers who come after us: May your lives in our home be as pleasant as our home has been to our lives!