Home-B-gone
My mom and her fiance made an offer on a new house this week. Its off of 72nd and Giles. She sent me the listing off of the real estate agent's website. It looks like an awesome house.
But...
this means she's one step closer to selling the house where I spent my childhood. Yeah, its old and needs A LOT of work, but I guess I always thought I'd be having to go through her stuff in that house when she died. I am so proud of where I came from, and it almost feels like that's being taken away from me. I love driving past my old high school when I'm home (Go Pack!). I read the marquee out front to see what's going on there. I drive past the grocery store where I had my very first job (at the time was Baker's, now No Frills) and when I go inside, Mary Nagy still works there and recognizes me. The neighbors across the street, despite the fact I haven't been friends with their daughter since about freshman year of HS, still wave when I'm in town and will occasionally ask me what's new. I can walk to the house of my oldest friend when I'm home. I've never experienced a more happy or carefree feeling in the air as I have during the summer months living in that house. The windows are open because there is no A/C, so we can hear the neighbors down the alley playing their mariachi music. Now if I was constantly hearing someone else's music where I live now, I'd be livid. Its just part of the atmosphere there, just like the bells on the handles of the carts selling Mexican Ice Cream (its like half frozen yogurt/half popcicle, but a big ol' bar for only a dollar). Oh, and 25th street, one of the few old-school brick streets I can think of still in existence, complete with bumps and valleys making driving across it similar to dodging landmines. But you'd better believe that even lead-footed drivers like myself don't go any faster than 20 mph on that street. I have to laugh at the suburban neighborhoods always complaining about cars driving way too fast down their streets. Replace them all with brick and see what happens, people.
I know change is the only constant in life and all, but this still just a bit depressing.
In any case, I'm tentatively planning on being in Omaha the weekend of March 10 to start going through some of the stuff in my old room.
But...
this means she's one step closer to selling the house where I spent my childhood. Yeah, its old and needs A LOT of work, but I guess I always thought I'd be having to go through her stuff in that house when she died. I am so proud of where I came from, and it almost feels like that's being taken away from me. I love driving past my old high school when I'm home (Go Pack!). I read the marquee out front to see what's going on there. I drive past the grocery store where I had my very first job (at the time was Baker's, now No Frills) and when I go inside, Mary Nagy still works there and recognizes me. The neighbors across the street, despite the fact I haven't been friends with their daughter since about freshman year of HS, still wave when I'm in town and will occasionally ask me what's new. I can walk to the house of my oldest friend when I'm home. I've never experienced a more happy or carefree feeling in the air as I have during the summer months living in that house. The windows are open because there is no A/C, so we can hear the neighbors down the alley playing their mariachi music. Now if I was constantly hearing someone else's music where I live now, I'd be livid. Its just part of the atmosphere there, just like the bells on the handles of the carts selling Mexican Ice Cream (its like half frozen yogurt/half popcicle, but a big ol' bar for only a dollar). Oh, and 25th street, one of the few old-school brick streets I can think of still in existence, complete with bumps and valleys making driving across it similar to dodging landmines. But you'd better believe that even lead-footed drivers like myself don't go any faster than 20 mph on that street. I have to laugh at the suburban neighborhoods always complaining about cars driving way too fast down their streets. Replace them all with brick and see what happens, people.
I know change is the only constant in life and all, but this still just a bit depressing.
In any case, I'm tentatively planning on being in Omaha the weekend of March 10 to start going through some of the stuff in my old room.