I wonder if places that you leave behind remember you. I remember if homes, flats, apartments soak you into their walls and ooze faint dusty particles of who we are, gently puffing them out into the air and into the pores of the next inhabitants, so that they are forever surrounded by a mist of those that came before them.

I also wonder if residences miss the people that lived in them and loved them.

Because I grew up in the military as a child and later grew up crazy as an adult, I have moved around so much that when doctors now ask me if I can access my medical records from the U.S., I want to laugh. I don't even know what state I was living in then, I want to gasp, let alone which city or hospital. In college I moved so much, simply because I had a crazy ex that somehow managed to find me every time, no matter how hard I tried.

Moving to Sweden seems to have dodged him, though.

I can remember all of the places I have lived, even if I can't remember their address, how much I paid, and the little details like if there was a washing machine or whether or not it had a balcony. I remember the base housing I lived in at the US Air Force Academy in Colorado. I remember driving to it and watching the mountains unfold in front of me from my child-like back-seat view. I remember my view of the Rockies from my bedroom window and the time the snow piled so high it sealed our front door. Before I left that place, I wrote my name in the top of my bedroom closet, near the ceiling.

I wonder if it's still there.

In university I lived in those cheap type of apartments you see everywhere. Plaster-board walls and crappy kitchen. When I would move out I would fill the nail holes on the walls with toothpaste instead of filler. It worked a charm.

Later I lived in an older house in Dallas, in a really rough neighborhood. It was my house, my first house and my first time being really single, my own tiny two-bedroom home, and I loved it so much that I have no doubt the walls ooze and ache me, since sometimes I have memories of just how much I loved that place.

I lived in a grand and old flat in Stockholm, a flat that I helped rip out and refit a new kitchen. Before new floowing was laid down, I wrote all over the old flooring-poems, facts about my life, details of who I was. I spread a layer of tiles all over me and sealed it up, but I know that I am a part of the fabric of that house, I am in the details.

I lived in a house on the outskirts of Stockholm, a 100 year-old home that seemed quirky and different and seemed to be exactly what I needed and wanted in a house. It had two fireplaces (one in the bedroom) and I loved sleeping with it lit. The kitchen was new and modern and I spent so mnay hours in there learning new recipes, trying new things, just being alone.

The house we just moved from was so incredibly special to me. Over 130 years old, hardwood floors and working fireplaces. A terraced house in a sweet community. And most of all, my first home with Angus. My first place to learn what it was like to live and occupy space with him. We had a number of incredibly happy experiences and a few very distressing ones, but above all that house was wrapped up in love, and that house was the first time in my life that I have ever felt like I was home.

If there is anywhere that I am soaked into the walls like an atomizer, it is in that house.

We packed up and moved on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. We are beyond sore and tired but are well and truly moved in to the new place and I handed back the keys to the other one yesterday. We are largely unpacked-we still have things to go on the wall, shelves and pictures, things still to find a home. But so far, I am happy in the new place.

Really happy. It's just as old as the other house (hence the lack of closets-older English homes didn't have them built in), with just as much history. The carpeted floors may have less character than the hardwood floors of the other house, but this is now my home and I am growing to love it fiercely.

Sunday night we cleaned out the old place. I went into a little groove under the stairs that I had never checked out before, and found a world of things I never knew were there-receipts from about 50 years ago. A butter-wrapper that looked from the war times. And wrapped in a disintegrating piece of cloth was an antique medicine bottle. It reads: "R Douglas. 21 & 23 New Bond St, London" down the side.

I marveled at it. I loved it immediately. I have taken it to the new place and washed it up, where it sits in the kitchen window as a reminder of the home I loved so much.

I will love this one, too.

Because for some people home is where the people you love are.

-H

PS-That bear is still alive and well, and kicking it back in D.C. I wonder if she's going to get into rocket-building now...

PPS-6 days.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:03 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
Post contains 952 words, total size 5 kb.

1 All Right!!! Sounds like a good place. I'm glad you're settling in. Make sure you're not too tired to christen all of the rooms with Angus. Actually, maybe you'd better do it twice, just to be sure. ;-)

Posted by: Easy at November 23, 2004 01:11 PM (U89mk)

2 I like Easy's idea, christening every room twice. But even more, I love the way you can make even changing residences into a romantic tale. Thank you, Helen, so much, for making me see my world, my life in a different light.

Posted by: scorpy at November 23, 2004 01:23 PM (rkJCl)

3 Neither of my parents were in the military..my mother just thought she was a gypsy. I've lived in ten different houses in my life so far. There are certain details about every house that I will never forget, so it's a nice thought to think that those houses will never forget me. Kind of like when you stay in a condo or Bed & Breakfast and they have the guest book to sign. I've signed a lot of pages in a lot of different houses. I remember the feel of certain carpets, the sound of how the back door sounded when it opened, the gritty feel of a bathtub beneath my back, the view from inside the kitchen cabinet where I would pretend I was in a spaceship and my sister and I were aliens. I'll never forget what the ceiling looked like in the apartment where I had my first orgasm. Yeah, homes remember you. : ) How could anyone or anything forget you, Helen? I hope your new home becomes all that you wish it to be. Make some great memories for it.

Posted by: Lindsay at November 23, 2004 01:49 PM (srIAp)

4 hmm, any traces in your new home of the people that lived in it before?

Posted by: pylorns at November 23, 2004 02:03 PM (FTYER)

5 My father was in the military and I married one. I moved around to different countries and have lots of lovely memories about each place we lived. I wish you all the luck with the new house.

Posted by: Tine at November 23, 2004 02:25 PM (CkLU7)

6 I've been lurking awhile and thought I would finally poke my head inside your door and let you know that I really enjoy your blog. Great insights and beautiful presentation. Thanks for sharing. Take Care Michael

Posted by: Michael at November 23, 2004 04:06 PM (OEVsR)

7 Yes, I think sometimes houses do miss their previous occupants. I love this idea of you scrawling things down on the old floor and then having the new floor laid down right on top of it.

Posted by: the girl at November 23, 2004 05:41 PM (MYeTv)

8 I love the idea that you wrote your name in the closet. I wish I had thought of that in my other abodes. The next time I do move, I'm going to do that. And I'm going to do it for my kids, too. I think they'll enjoy that tradition. At my parent's house, they have a chart of all of our heights handwritten onto the wall in the laundry room. I know it'll be painted over if they ever move, but it will still be there.

Posted by: RP at November 23, 2004 06:39 PM (LlPKh)

9 I once wrote my name in a closet I was leaving. I was a sophomore in high school. Now you make me want to tell that story. Why did you & Angus leave the other house?

Posted by: kalisah at November 24, 2004 02:27 AM (rU32B)

10 Growing up with a single mom, we move quite often. I used to bury my 'treasures' in the backyards of my different abodes thinking I would return to retrieve them. I wonder how many toy soldiers and such were found to become new 'treasures'!!

Posted by: MacBoar at November 24, 2004 03:25 AM (qayGZ)

11 Kalisah-we had to move, the owner decided to sell the place and we didn't want to permanently live there. Michael and Lindsay-thanks

Posted by: Helen at November 24, 2004 09:33 AM (eyzrV)

12 Hi Helen - I just found you and I've spent the last three days obsessively reading your archives. I'm so glad that you and Angus love your new house! Is it too late to get on the bear hosting list? I'm in Canada.

Posted by: lostdawill at November 24, 2004 10:11 AM (TXLaz)

13 "Before new floowing was laid down,..." Shouldn't that be, "Before new floowing was waid down"?

Posted by: Helen at November 24, 2004 10:08 PM (AYWR3)

14 Lostdawill- You betcha! Now if only I can find the damn list...

Posted by: Helen at November 25, 2004 09:23 AM (eyzrV)

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