Going Back

The house I grew up in is up for sale. My cousin saw it on the market and forwarded on the info. In a moment of nostalgia and 'wouldn't it be great', we decided to go see it--that was yesterday.

Off we went, to old skool Redmond, the Redmond before Microsoft, ticky tacky developments, and strip malls. The Redmond where my parents bought a house for 25K which is now selling for $459,000. The Redmond of bears, (yes, there really were bears) and endless walking trails loaded with blackberries and salmon berries. The Redmond where I sneaked a cigarette into the woods and was found by a buck with a huge rack who looked at me with great concern.

Okay, so I'm romanticizing true, but it really was great. Now, not so much.

The house my parents worked so hard to make an amazing home is now a dud that needs serious work. Examples of my parent's commitment to this house: My dad salvaged huge beams and bricks from the old Bon Marche store to make a giant hearth; they had custom pine cabinetry made for the kitchen and study. You get the idea.

The people that live there now have destroyed the place. They ripped out all the fruit trees, they burnt down the kitchen and put in new cabinets, they haven't painted or cleaned in years because they were too busy stinking the place up with cigarettes.

It would be a great 'Flip' but I'm too emotionally attached to consider doing that.
So, I've decided to leave my house to my memories.
Sometimes going back just isn't a good idea.