We used to live in a little 1100 sq ft ranch home. All eight of us. It was a 3/2, with an extra room that could work as a bedroom, or a dining room, or even a family closet. It got to where it wasn’t working no matter how we used that extra room, and then this house happened. The story is long, and I will have to go into on another post, but long story short, we are living in my grandmother’s house. My mom’s family moved here when she was in fourth grade, and my grandmother swore she would die here. She had no desire to leave, but after suffering a fall in 2008, her children forced convinced her to move into an assisted living facililty. We have a great facility in the area that our church is very actively involved with, and Superman’s grandparents live in one of the neighborhoods that is a part of this elder community. My grandmother moved into a two-room apartment because she physically had to have help with a few things. She LOVED it! She loved visiting with the women who cared for her. She loved having friends drop in for visits. She liked going to the concerts they hosted at the first of each month. She moved there in January 2009. After her move, my mom convinced her to let us rent her house. We couldn’t sell ours (it needed some work and the market sucked), so we couldn’t buy hers, but we could manage renting it until we were in a better place to buy it. We moved in Memorial Day weekend, and she was gone just three weeks later. She had suffered from some bleeding ulcers, and the damage was too much for her heart. We were blind sided by it all. She never even came back to her house after leaving it just six months before. It was a shock, and the night she passed, I was grateful that Superman and the kids were at my parents’ house so I could come back here and have my moment. We love this house, in part because it is two times the size of our old house, but mostly because it has a history. And we got a little present Thursday, on my grandmother’s birthday. We got to experience our first snow in our “new” house, her house, on her birthday. Even now, six months after moving in, our oldest son will tell you this is Nana’s house. It was so special to me, that something so fun and so unusual, at least here in Georgia, happened on that special day. Thank you, Nana, and happy birthday to you.
Happy Birthday, Nana! January 9, 2010