If These Walls Could Talk

Moving was quite a process. Our pack out from Hawaii was much different than our pack out from Virginia. We were assigned two movers that wrapped our furniture, packed our boxes, and loaded our crates. These two wonder workers did it all. In Virginia we had a crew of people for each step: an entire crew wrapped larger furniture, an entire crew packed our household goods, and an entire crew loaded all of our crates. It took three full days and fifteen people to move all of our things. Not in Hawaii. Our two movers finished our entire pack out in two days.
We loaded eighteen wooden crates full of furniture and boxes. Each crate averaged about 900 pounds. The wooden crates were metal sealed and tagged with a number. Hubby's name was scrawled on the exterior of each crate, along with a number. Those of us that move like this, with particularly large shipments, know the unspoken "rules." If you want your stuff taken care of, you buy your movers whatever they want for lunch when they pack you up, and when they unload you at your destination. This time was easy; the larger guy shocked us with a salad order both days, and the smaller guy wanted plate lunch.

We were left with an empty house, just a shell of the memories that once held our home. I sat quietly, (very unlike me) reflecting on our time in Hawaii. In a few more days our keys would belong to someone else. It was their turn to call our house their home. I was not heartbroken. We bought this house knowing it would "work." We knew from the beginning that our time in Hawaii was ticking, and we could not stay forever. But I sat there, trying to memorize all that our house had meant, in all the ways it had become our home, in all of the ways we were able to share it with others. I will share them with you. They are not the most significant memories,nor the most private, nor the most public. They are simply memories that came to mind.

We had bought the Sanford and Son house on the block. It was so bad that the neighbors thanked us for buying it. A family with ten children and two rabbits had lived here before us. The then three year old home looked much older. So we fixed up the home, inside and out.

If the exterior walls could talk they would tell tales of two little boys that sat on that step and waited for their daddy to come home. On hot afternoons we hunted lizards and dragonflies. We took Son2's birth announcement photo on the front lawn, along with Mother's Day and birthday pictures. It was on the lanai that I found sweet packages sent from the mainland that at times brought me to tears. And this lawn is where giant poisonous toads would taunt me during rainy season nights. It was also on the front lanai where I learned to love people from the door to door religions and not just shut the door on them.
In the living room (not pictured) there was the time our 20 foot ceilings looked like they had been graffitied. Hubs used a paint sprayer and it got stuck. It was in this living room that I taught Son1 how to greet guests and then walk them to the door at the end of the night. This was the room where we first replaced the flooring, and Hubs and I had quite a time! Well, honestly I was terrible help to him. We said goodbye to our pool table in this room, and led our couples Bible study in this room.
These kitchen walls could tell you how my children loved to hide in cupboards, how we learned to cook new local food, and how the best of our guests helped us with meals. We spent so much time around that center island, eating as a family, preparing meals, spreading out maps of the island, and helping guests plan their itineraries.
Both of my children learned to walk in this family room, the room where Son2 once rocked peacefully in a swing. In this room Hubby replayed my LOST debut in super slow motion several times just so I could revel in myself.
If these outside walls could talk they would whisper the sounds of the melodic wind chimes we bought in Hawaii in 1999, long before we lived here. This is where I said goodbye to my dog of 6 1/2 years, where both of our children screamed delightfully as their daddy pushed them on the swing after work.Ahh how I wish this wall would let me forget the trip to the emergency room, but I will not forget the apple banana and papaya trees.If the dining area could talk it would tell you of the late night hours Hubby spent at the laptop, after work, after family time, after dinner, and after wife time. They would tell you about a man who puts his family first. Ahhh and you would know about the little boy who threw food from his high chair to his trusty dog, just to watch his mama flip, and then giggle, giggle, giggle. OVER AND OVER.
Goodbye bathroom walls, where I tossed my pregnant cookies during that big earthquake in 2006! This is where I started potty training, where I sang songs, read books, and made happy faces out of lotion to keep a child on the potty. Ahhh and where our guests worried the neighbors could see them while taking a shower. Hee hee. (We did put a curtain up!)

The walls of the guest room (not pictured) greeted so many visitors! How the walls may have giggled at overpacked and overweight suitcases, and even more as they watched many guests repack!The laundry room knew the joy of preschool art hung from each wall.
The hallway heard the cheers from wheelbarrow races with daddy after dinner, and games of Ready! Set! Go! races.Aahh and the walls would tell you how I relinquished our hall storage closet to an entire toy closet.
How we would tiptoe quietly in just the right places on these steps! And when we hit the wrong boards the kids surely woke up. In this little office I posted so much on this blog about our life in Hawaii.And some days I watched mountain sunsets and arching rainbows from the windows.And how those walls could tell you how frustrated I was when a child locked me in his room when he was 2 years old, and how I have retold that story, laughing with tears in my eyes so many times. They could tell you how Hubby and I have the sweetest memories of listening to our child pray at night, playing bedtime games with him, and his pretending to "clean" his room (shoving anything not nailed down into the closet).
And I know those walls laughed when I broke the toilet seat. But they knew the joy of watching two little boys share a tubby.

Our master bedroom (not pictured) WELL I AM GLAD THOSE WALLS DON'T TALK.Aahh the walls of the master bathroom could tell you stories of hair cuts for two little squirmy boys, and how one flushed a deodorant stick down the toilet, and we had to call a plumber. And of a mommy that relished in long, hot hot hot showers after a day at the beach.

And if these walls could talk, they would tell you how I told the new owner I could not turn over the house to him until my baby woke up from his very last nap in the very first bedroom I called "his."