Leaving One Home

We ornamented this home with love and art, fitting the way Gavin and I lived. The transom window above is glass with cut copper by a dear friend.

This house is full of so many memories: of most of our years together, of infertility, of our new baby. Memories of the first time he died (a cardiac event, years before cancer), my first call to 911, and my subsequent trip to Burning Man, and of how we reconciled our life in this world, his visit to the next one, and that temporary alternative world in the Nevada desert. Of my two years in grad school, of eight years of trying to conceive, of the two years of Gavin’s illness and the three years since then -- times of desperation, exploration, titillation, satisfaction. And the beginnings of our new life: Mr. Fresh joining our family, Shortie starting to read.

Some things I hope I’m leaving behind: I never want to be sole breadwinner or a single parent again. I aim to never again watch my sex life decay or make the wrong compromises to keep home stable. I’d like to be someone who a professional to fix a broken toilet. (The home repair stories from this house are nearly as tragic as the cancer.)

It makes you think. This departure is real (sort of -- After the move I'll still have to empty Gavin's studio). Obviously the art will all move with us but I can’t figure out a way to bring this little window. I’ll be sharing more of the art we hung -- and the memories they stir up -- as I pack everything up for our move.

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