Speaking of homes…
There once was a cute little house in Houston. This house was nothing special on the outside, just bricks and mortar and overgrown sago palms. This house had a heart, though. This house had character.
Robyn and I moved into the house on the corner of 14th and Michaux in August of 2006. I remember exactly how I found the place – I typed in “Heights House” on Craigslist and it was the first listing. The rent had recently been reduced – it was exactly what we had been hoping to pay. My obvious first question was, “What’s wrong with it?!” I made an appointment to see it and loved it; it was just right for us. I took Robyn back and we peered through the mail slot. Yep. This was our house. We moved in shortly after and spent the first night on a pallet on the living room floor (our beds were arriving the next day). We were so excited as our hearts filled with hopes and dreams for our little place.
And it was a good little home. It’s funny… as I search through photographs I can’t find a single one of the whole house from the outside. Did no one ever stand on the corner and snap some shots?? Someone should…
Anyway
Although I don’t have any outside shots of the house, that wasn’t what made it special. If you really think about it, I have millions of photographs of the house – this place was the backdrop to so many of my fondest memories over the past several years:
Birthdays








LifeGroups (CCQ and Laundromat)







Christmases





Countless gatherings






…and very funny roommate times




You get the picture.
Around September of 2008 a new friend blew into our lives with Hurricane Ike. The girl who was going to stay for a week ended up as a permanent fixture and oh, are we so glad she came.
The funny thing is, right around that time something was also blowing me in an interesting direction… a southerly direction, if you know what I mean… We had a fun and full six months together as three in the house before I moved to Chile. And do you know what? There was something so comforting in knowing that Sarah was going to be there in the little brick house. So much was changing, but at least the house would still be there.
I had weekly skype dates with Sarah and Robyn for the first 7 or 8 months I was here. It was like visiting the living room of the little brick house every week. Sometimes it was the thing I looked forward to most in a time of intense transition.
When I went back for my first visit last December the little house became my home again for a couple of weeks. I moved back in and made myself at home. It was as if nothing had ever changed. Going to that little house was like going home.
Just a few weeks ago when I went back the little house was my first stop. Again, I moved right in and made myself at home. As we got ready for a good friend’s wedding, it was like so many other times getting ready in the pink tile bathroom. Home again.
Next time I go back, though, the little house won’t be there. Well, I suppose it will be there but with different inhabitants. Next month Robyn will be moving out of state and Sarah will be moving in with a friend. Next time I go to Houston, I won’t have my little brick house. Of course I’ll have multiple options of friends with whom I can stay (you may begin signing up in the comment section below) but it won’t be quite the same. For the first time, I’ll be a guest when I return to Houston.
Robyn and I had a little plan to honor the last night that we would both spend in the little house by camping out on the living room floor while sharing some chocolate cake and memories. After visiting my sister in New York, I was scheduled to return to Houston for one more night then leave for Chile the next day. Unfortunately, due to crazy circumstances that were completely frustrating and unexpected, I missed my flight back to Houston from New York, therefore spending that last night in the US in NY. I caught a morning flight back to Houston instead and had only a few hours to frantically repack my bags and catch my flight for Chile. I was so disappointed. I wasn’t going to be able to give the little brick house a proper farewell!
I’m big on proper farewells, by the way.
And so as I got my suitcases out the door and did a final scan for any forgotten items, Robyn and I paused to take one final look at our house together from the front door. After about 25 seconds – just as we both felt the tears welling up in our eyes – it was time to hit the road. The airport doesn’t wait for anything or anyone (as I had tragically learned the night before).
And so I have chosen this blog as my way of giving the little house a proper farewell. Even though I haven’t lived there in nearly a year and a half, it’s still my house. It’s always been there waiting for me. Goodbye, little brick house. You were such a big part of my life. I loved the times I spent in you. I’ll try to pass by just to say hello next time I’m in town, although it may be a bit difficult. You see, what made you special was the things that happened in you. Your life was the people who passed through your door. I hope that the next people who live there know what a special place they’re getting.