Musical Houses

I was in my new house last night. Or, I should say, what will be "my new house" once the renovations, painting, etc has all been completed. While this is certainly not my first time moving (4 years of out-of-town university) it is definitely my biggest move to boot. It's a bit of an upheaval, really, preparing to move your life into a new home, having to make all these decisions and hope that what you're deciding is really a good idea. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't stressful, or that these days I'm sleeping like a baby ...

For those of you who haven't been following the Musical House Saga, a bit of background information: I grew up in the home I'm in right now; classic Scarborough bungalow, two parents and an older brother. Our maternal grandparents lived across the street in a classic Scarborough bungalow of their own.

While I was away at university, my grandfather passed away from cancer, and my grandmother was not well enough to stay on her own. So, since my bedroom at home wasn't being used, she moved into my room. However, this still left an empty house, and when I would eventually return home, I would have nowhere to live! My brother, who had been in the basement bedroom in our parents' house, moved out and into our grandparents' house; I moved into his room in the basement. (Still following along?)

When he and his fiancee got married this summer, they bought my paternal grandparents' house (which had been inhabited by my father's sister, her husband, and their four-year-old daughter) and moved a few intersections over. This, again, left an empty house, which brings us up to the current situation: I am in the process of moving into the house across the street. (Confusing, I know!)

There have been lots of renovations been going on, and it's all been terribly exciting, but it's been an emotional process as well. It's very strange to move about a house where you practically grew up, and be in the midst of all these changes. I understand, from a logical perspective, that houses cannot physically contain your memories of people, and that changing a home does not actually change your memories, but once in a while I have found myself wondering what my grandparents would think of all the changes; would they be offended? The rooms are all so different, from the colour of the walls, to the flooring, to some of the furniture - it hardly looks like the same place.

For example, I don't know if they would like that I made what used to be a dining room my office, and painted it a bright blue colour - that would probably be a bit much for their tastes. At the same time, though, I think it's hilarious that the shade of green I picked for the kitchen is very similar to the colour the kitchen was originally, some 50 years ago. I suppose some things get changed in a completely different direction, while other things come full-circle.

It's stressful, and tiring, and exciting, and it's been a big rollercoaster with lots of planning and lots of work. I'm really looking forward to the finished product, and taking care of what was, during my childhood, such a beautiful and happy home. Despite all the changes, the memories still remain perfectly intact.