Oh, sometimes those memories that pop up on your timeline are killers, aren’t they? On my birthday, five years ago, I put my Colorado house on the market. I bought this house when Hubby #2 and I split up. It was about a third built and I chose my colors, carpeting, cabinets and countertops, and all the plumbing and lighting fixtures. Even though Daughter #2 was only eleven years old, she spent three weeks at a time with each of us. It was, essentially, the first time I’d ever lived sort of alone.

I was so proud of the house. I did the landscaping myself…laying sod, planting trees and flowers. This was before the days of “TOW-Wanda” so my little house was my sanctuary. I decorated like girls lived there…because, they did. I had green and white striped sofas and lots of florals. No TV. The antique rolltop desk that my uncle left to me when he died sat where an entertainment center was supposed to go.

I didn’t have curtains. I needed all the light I could get. I loved that house. Then, Mr. Virgo came along. Six months after he moved into the house, he diplomatically asked if I had ever given any thought to redecorating. I think the fru-fru girly stuff was getting to his mountain man sensibilities. I acquiesced and when we were married, we got rid of all the furniture and started over.

A friend of mine was moving to Hilton Head and didn’t want to take the furniture from her million dollar house, so I bought about $25,000 worth of furniture from her for $4,000. We painted the first floor living area as loft gold, hung tapestry valances, and brought in the new furniture. We had the painting behind the dining room table done by a Colorado artist. And we found the breakfast table and chairs at a local furniture store.

I felt so….grown up. All this sophisticated furniture with my homey touches of family antiques filled my heart. I really, REALLY loved my house. 

Then Mr. Virgo died. We had just refinanced the house five months before he died. In order to give us flexibility with payments, we went with a thirty year mortgage with the understanding we would pay it off quickly when we were flush and still stay afloat on the lean months. Now I was faced with a tenth of the income and a mortgage that wouldn’t be paid off till I was ninety years old!

I quickly began to hate the house. It needed new carpet, new windows, new appliances, new paint. It was nickel and dime-ing me to death. And there were memories around every corner. I couldn’t stand it. I stayed away as much as I could. They tell you not to make any major decisions in the first year after losing your spouse. So, I waited till the next summer and decided to sell. 

I wouldn’t change a thing, really. I made my decisions based on what I was faced with in the moment. I suppose, maybe I could have kept the house and rented it out, but that just presents a whole different set of problems. We went through that when we rented it out for three years while we worked around the state. In reality, it would have been cumbersome.

Do I miss it? I don’t know…I look at these pictures and remember how beautiful it was. I remember all my stuff I had in it. I think the thing I miss the most is that great front porch. But that is not the life I live now. That was then. This is now. I have a life now that I wouldn’t trade for the world. And, when we build our retirement home, we can make it any way we want it. And I’ll have a big front porch just like this one. That’s the one thing I’ll ask for special.

Facebook Memories….sometimes they blindside you. Sometimes they show you’re right where you’re supposed to be. 

❤️

“For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything.”    Hebrews 3:4 NIV