Tuesday, March 9, 2010

The Wailing Wall

This is the wailing wall. Well, at least it was yesterday, for me. Yesterday, we closed on the old house. We officially don't own this home now and while that has been a long awaited "YEE HAW," the reality of it was much more complicated. I avoided facing some of these emotions and the house all weekend. But, yesterday the Realtor went over to the remove the lock box and the sign and found a few goodies of ours. I decided to go and pick them up and have one final moment, alone, in the house. I found myself standing in the doorway of each empty room, flooded with years of memories. It's amazing the things that came to mind, I suppose it must be like what people experience when "their lives flash before their eyes." I saw myself laying on my bed, reading The Cat and the Hat to Camdyn when she was just 3 months old. I saw her as an energetic 3 year old bouncing on the bed and then snuggled in tightly watching Dora. I saw Kenzie scampering through the house, wet from the tub, and running and rolling like a maniac trying to dry off. I saw Chris playing horsey with Camdyn in the living room. I saw Chris running Camdyn in to the bathroom the day she choked on an apple and I had to give her the Heimlich. I saw Camdyn holding Chloe on the couch the day she came home from the hospital. I saw Gramma and Cam dying Easter Eggs at the kitchen table. The memories are endless.

However, the nursery and the wailing wall were the hardest to say good bye to. Okay, so we never called it the wailing wall before, I'm just calling it that now because this is where I finally broke down and allowed myself to wail.

This wall was painted when I was 7 months pregnant with Camdyn. Chris was home from baseball and he surprised me by taping out the entire wall while I was at work and then had painted half of the squares. He didn't paint them all because he wanted to do some of them together (awe, how sweet). So we did. We painted those squares together giddy with baby anticipation and excitement for the months to come. When the wall was finished I would sit in the rocking chair and just stare at it and day dream about what it would be like to hold my baby in this room, and put her to bed here every night. There was so much uncharted territory ahead of us and we were nervous, but excited, really excited. And, then the baby came. I spent more time in this room, rocking, and soothing, and partying with her all night long than I care to admit. I watched Camdyn grow from an infant to a toddler and have scores of after bath time memories of Cam running around this room wearing nothing but a smile as I chase her with a diaper and her jammies. And then, Camdyn moved to her "big girl" room and we prepped this room for a 2nd little girl. Same wall, different furniture, new baby.

So, when I think about this room and the wall and all of the life that happened in this tiny room, it represents progression, the way life carries forward whether you are ready or not. Chris and I were different people that day we painted that wall. We hadn't experienced the sweetness that is parenting children, and the frustration and the exhaustion that is...parenting children. We were younger, more innocent, more naive, and the world to us was a different place than it is today. Now, cars drive too fast, music is too loud, and I find myself saying "eat all of your veggies please." What used to matter, careers, happy hour, who got a brand new car, doesn't. We are changed for the better. We are parents, we are a team, and while I savor the memories of what life was like when it was just the two of us, I wouldn't ask my time machine to take me back to those days. So, Wall, you are symbolic to me, and thanks for letting me cry on you for a moment, but we are moving on. There is more life to be lived and more memories to be made, and I have a feeling that we are just getting started!

PS: The new buyer said he is not going to paint over this wall....REALLY? Although I thought it was cute for the nursery, I totally wouldn't fault him for splashing some tan paint across it. However, the thought of it staying the same does make me smile.

PPS: Liz, thanks for the sweet tea and listening to me choke back tears. Man, that was harder than I thought it would be. Thanks for being there.

1 comment:

Liz & Jim Johnson said...

Wow, you really have a way with words. *Sniffle* I'm glad I could be there .... I know that had to be hard and when I drove by and saw your car, I knew immediately that it was going to be tough for ya.

You are right though, you have so many memories to make ahead of you... and the best is yet to come! :)