The Big Move

This weekend marks a monumental day! My father moved out of the house that I grew up in. He lived there for a grand total of 23 years. Honestly, when we first moved in, we thought we might only be there for a few years at most. But as the years passed, we both grew quite comfortable in our super tiny home. We watched the neighborhood change over the years from "not that bad" to "little salsa-ville" to just plain "ghetto." (Please don't be upset with me for my descriptions. I'm as open -minded as they come, but when you grow use to traveling circus Oom-pah-pah beats, you start to think that something is wrong with the neighborhood.)

When I moved to the East Coast I begged and pleaded my Dad to try and find a new place to live. It wasn't an easy task, and frankly, I think we both knew in the back of our heads that it would take a major life changing moment to pick up the roots and move.

Well, as many of you are aware, my Aunt passed away a month and a half ago. She lived with my grandmother, who will be celebrating her 85th birthday this November. My Aunt's passing was the major life changing moment that allowed my Dad to uproot himself and take over where she left off. He is moving in with my grandmother (his Mom), and I am utterly grateful for this, on so many levels.

He will have someone to come home to, and talk with. He has a new found purpose, and has been spending more time outdoors, mowing the lawn, stacking wood for the winter and taking care of Nana's property. I no longer need to worry about his well-being in his own house. (Nana lives just outside of town WAY up in the mountains. Now the worst thing I could even worry about is that he doesn't get sprayed by a skunk.)

But what brings the biggest smile to my face, is the knowledge that both Nana, and my Dad are together. My family in Oregon is incredibly small, just five of us, and with my Aunt now waiting for us on the other side, now is the time we need to bond together even tighter.

So celebrate with me, and say goodbye to the house I grew up in. I wish I could say that the next family to live there would build such happy memories as my Dad and I did in it, but sadly, I doubt that the new tenants would stay that long. Goodbye little Stukel house. I'll miss you.This was taken a few years after we moved in. It was such a cute house, wasn't it?To this day I still enjoy shoveling snow. Strange, but its something I've done since I was child, and I find it so peaceful.Whenever we had a snowfall, I'd try to dig a path from the front door of the house to the driver's side door for my Dad. I was alway so worried he slipped and hurt himself. This photo is one of the last shots my Dad took as he was moving out this past week. He rented a dumpster to help clean out the clutter from inside.In case you can't read the red type. The top says, "The blue roof is my old house. The red car is my Dad's car." To the left reads, "This is my elementary school." and to the right reads, "This is my Church."