We live in an up-and-coming area of town. Most of the original houses around here were built sometime in the middle of last century, many relatively small compared to the rest of town. The owners of these houses have lived in them forever. They probably got married and then moved into these houses. They had their children in these houses. Now their children have grown up and moved away and they remain because their friends are all here and because they’ve lived here for their entire adult lives and because our town is a great town and our neighborhood the best of the best (#biased)(as I’m reading this through I realize “biased” might not be an awesome hashtag but I can’t erase it because I want you see how my brain works sometimes). The location couldn’t be better – a mile or less from the center of town, which is walkable but far enough away to breathe. We can walk to all of the schools. The sounds of Friday night football games resonate throughout the streets creating a classic small-town vibe that you might expect to find in the Midwest but probably not in the suburbs of a big city. The neighbors are friendly, the schools are great, the highways are close but not close enough to hear. So it’s no wonder everyone wants to move here and no one wants to leave once they’ve arrived. But sadly, no one wants to move into one of these small, old houses. I’m not criticizing – I felt the same way. We’re an obnoxious generation in many ways – #genHGTV – we expect big and shiny. We want marble countertops that won’t stain. Stainless steel that will hold a magnet. Blue-stone patios that lead to a fenced-in yard. I don’t blame us – we know these things are possible because a lot of shows tell us it’s possible. Either we can buy a house that’s already perfect or we can fix it up ourselves and come in under budget. Right?
Well – this neighborhood is prime Fixer Upper territory. The houses are just not big enough or new enough to survive. So they’re being demolished and replaced by big, new houses. I know because I live in one of the new houses and because since we’ve lived here 4 more have popped up right on our street. The parallel street had 4 new constructions all for sale at the same time over the summer. And driving up the street to drop the kids off at school today I noticed another one on our street being knocked down.
This house belonged to a family. All the happiness and the birthdays and the how tall are you now ticks on the wall. All the fights and the screaming and the unwarranted (or warranted) sass from children far too young to be sassy. Every memory, every boyfriend, every girlfriend. You know for a fact many a mix tape was made in that house. Many a treadmill not walked on. Many a plate of vegetables fed to the dog. And now it’s being torn down. Yes – a new house will be built with a new family and new memories. No – tearing down the house doesn’t erase the memories. But – it took months for the house to be built and many years to build the memories and within a few hours the whole thing was gone. I find this to be extremely sad.
Maybe I’m feeling especially sentimental today because it’s my son’s birthday – he’s 5. Five! It’s hard to wrap my brain around that one. He told me in the car on the way home from school that he wanted a cake shaped like the Tortuga from Wild Kratts. Well??? How good is this rainbow Tortuga? Did I whip that together or what?
And wait till you see the candles –
Is this a #momfail? or a #momwin? 4 children in the house but no birthday candles to be found. This is because we ran out of Shabbat candles so we had to use birthday candles in their place – now we’ve run out of birthday candles and I pulled out the skinny tapers my parents gave us that they bought some time in the 1970s. Possibly they received them as part of a wedding present. Or possibly they got them at a quaint department store that’s since been demolished and replaced by a bigger, shinier department store. In any case the 5 year old thought they were pretty cool and even though the cake looks like something you’d tell your 10 year old you’re proud of her for making it tasted good and I should know because I ate most of the scraps. NO it wasn’t vegan #cakedoesn’tcount. But I did just eat a slice of tofeatloaf – you know you’re having food envy right about now.
Mama Mader at Home 