Monday, November 16, 2009
At the breakfast table, I was figuring out how old Seth would be when Avery started Kindergarten. He'll be 10. He'll be in fifth grade. All four of our children will be in Elementary school together. I told Seth this. He asked, "Will we still be in this house." I said, "Definitely."
"No, I don't want this house for that long. I want a better house."
My rebuttal, "Seth, there is no better house. We got the best house in all of North Carolina!"
"I want a house with wheels."
"Yes, I want a motorhome."
Nothing against motorhomes or those who live in them, but a gal's gotta draw the line.
It isn't surprising that Seth would be more comfortable in a motorhome. We've lived, up to now, a nomadic life. Only stopping long enough to concieve and bear two children in each place. And we've never lived super close to family (we're those have-to-spend-the-night relatives) so we've done a lot of traveling (driving). Our younger three have no memory of our previous residences and Seth can only recall foggy images of his early life. We're ready to settle and provide a soft bed of memories for our someday grown children to return to for a rest from their hectic future lives.
Yet, I feel like any second Dr. Gooch is going to wake up next to me or call me on his way home from work or wipe his mouth with a sigh at the dinner table and announce:
'We're going to Kalamazoo, Michigan!!' Then, we'll all clap and look at the map to see where that is. I'll ask about the job there and Seth will ask if there are any lighthouses. Lucy won't care except that we'll have treats in the car on our way there.
But then, I would start to cry and think about all the bulbs we Dr. Gooch planted and the sprinkler system and the grass just starting to get a little thick and so green. I'll think about the kids' schools so convenient down the road and the rooms we painted and most of all I'll think about our mild winters here compared to how they would be in Michigan. Brrrr.
And then I'm relieved that Dr. Gooch never really announced anything except maybe how good the dinner was. I don't know when that nomadic blood will leave my system, maybe never, because, as my Mom said, "You and Dr. Gooch (except she said Craig) don't let the grass grow under your feet."
Yet, here we are checking our new grass up close every day saying, "The grass is growing well." And, I'm enjoying every minute of it. So, Seth, no motorhome. At least not for a long time.