Just because I’m in a snarky mood today, and I have a move looming on the horizon.
I entered the following in a contest awhile back. I was (and still am) pretty proud of it, so I’m going to post it now that I have my very own private corner of the blogosphere. The contest was to write an essay about how you make a house a home:
It was somewhere in the hectic period where we moved 3 times in 2 years that I became obsessive about the magnets. My refrigerator is covered with magnets and the paraphernalia that goes with them. There are birth announcements for children that are now two (or three), a poem about attitude, a handwritten list (on a napkin) of “Places to go before we die”, a magnet from a trip to Mackinac Island… you get the idea.
I saw recently on a web forum someone writing how they always make sure that their refrigerator has absolutely nothing on it when the realtor shows their home to prospective buyers. Well then, I guess it’s amazing that our previous homes have sold because the familiar collection of memories on my fridge is the last thing to come down and the first thing up at the new place.
When I visit someone, their fridge is the thing I’m sneaking curious looks at, not snooping in their bathroom cupboards. It speaks volumes about who you are and what you’re about. On a fitness kick? Well, I can tell from the workout schedule. Got kids to be proud of? I can see those tests with the A circled. A neat freak? Of course, your fridge is clean and shiny with nary a magnet in sight. The military families are the ones with the American Red Cross card, alert rosters and Tricare magnets. Should you visit me, you will recognize my fridge by the tattered index card with red marker “I love you” written on it. It always has pride of place in the center of the montage. The first note my husband ever sent me from a deployment.
The envelope it all fits into goes with all of the other important documents we hand carry when we PCS. When I get to the new place, it’s comforting to see my stuff up on the new fridge. I feel like I wouldn’t recognize the place if my fridge was naked. A few pieces have changed over the years, but the major players of the collection are still with me. The boxes may take weeks to unpack, I may never get all the curtains up, but already it feels like home.