This post is part 6 in a 15 week series sponsored by Mommy's Piggy Tales that encourages women to record their youth.
Just when life was in a routine and I was getting comfortable . . .
One night my parents called me into the kitchen. It seemed serious. They sat me down and told me they had something to talk to me about. I braced for the worst. Situations like this never turn out well.
In a very quiet, serious manner, my parents said, "Donette, we are thinking about moving into town. There is a house just 4 blocks from church and school and we are thinking of buying it."
My response? "If we move to town, you are going to have to start paying for water." You see, we lived in a little clump of houses (not exactly a subdivision) and had a well on our lot. The 5 closest neighbors used the water from our well and paid us monthly for the expense. It seemed like a position of power to my 9-year old brain, not considering that we incurred all expenses for the well when it wasn't working properly. Either way, it seemed like an advantage one should not give up indiscriminately.
After my parents assured me it was a sacrifice they were willing to make, I went on about my daily living not thinking much about it. Until the day to move finally arrived. For some reason, we were moving mid-week and my parents had the audacity to insist we were to go to school that day! Luckily for me, my sensitive stomach flared up just in time to stay home that day and miraculously was settled by the time we got into the new house! I got busy arranging my bedroom and unpacking all my belongings and generally acclimating myself to the new house. How exciting was that day!
Shortly thereafter I began to miss our old house, often dreaming that we had moved back. I loved our new place, but there is just something about the first house you lived in. I've driven back there just a few times in the 23 years since, but each time I am shocked at how small the yard is, or how tiny the house looks. I prefer to remember it as I have it in my memories.