The perfect metaphor…
I chose to buy this particular old house because I sensed it had ‘good bones’ and needed a little love to reach its full potential. Some tried to talk me out of it, but I was sure it was the one for me. I saw what it actually was at its foundation, a beautiful warm family home, loaded with charm and character. “I’ll be the person who’ll restore this sad house to its former glory and return it to its original happy luster,” I thought. So that’s what I set out to do. The one thing I know about myself is that I’ve always had an abundance of love and energy to give – an endless supply. I was motivated by a very deep, sub-conscious, sense of purpose, but mostly, I’d say, I was motivated by love.
The years following the purchase were not easy. The house was uncooperative, resistant, if you will, and often gave me a hard time when attempting to tame it. One thing led to another, the pipes, the roof, the furnace, the septic, the electric wiring, the well, the water heaters, the shingles, etc. On and on… These were core issues that needed to be addressed in order to have any quality of life. It had been badly neglected. We added on, put a foundation under the guest cottage, and had a utility easement moved. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for this house. And then there was the issue of undoing what the former owners had done – they had robbed this house of its dignity. Their bad taste and poor choices made the house dark and depressing. What they did to it was criminal, from my point of view – they didn’t enhance its natural style but covered it, stifled it and shamed it into submission. I knew this house was light, bright and happy at its foundation. I just knew it.
It would take years for me to excavate, so much hard work, time, energy and huge monetary investments – but it was worth it. Yes, there was worry, anxiety and sometimes tears, as I struggled to make things right.
Slowly and lovingly the house and property were restored. Flowers bloomed where there once were none, trees and branches were cut to let the sun in. Aesthetically it was beautiful, but more importantly it had undergone a complete over-haul and now had new working parts. It felt easy and effortless to live in the house. Our family thrived. Every person who walked through the door would comment about the happy vibe. One friend even said, “Your house makes me want to dance!” (No, she wasn’t drunk…) Even the delivery men would feel prompted to comment. The house finally had integrity and you could feel it!
Still, all those years of breaking parts and small home disasters had taken a toll on me. It was hard for me to let go of the feeling that something would go wrong when I wasn’t there… a flood, a power outage? And occasionally my fears were reinforced with unexpected home issues. I was tired. The house would never be without problems. It was old and it had a past history of neglect. This house would require a watchful eye, there was a need to stay one step ahead of maintenance.
One day, when I was rearranging my garden and digging up plants, I came across a hydrangea which, despite my best shoveling efforts, would not be uprooted. I pulled and pulled and hacked away at the roots, but they must have been bigger and deeper than I thought. In the process, I injured my back. It occurred to me, while I was digging, that leaving this house one day might be equally as difficult as removing this clinging plant. Through the years I had rooted myself to this life, my family, this house, this land. It would take something major to loosen my grip. …and something finally did.
*Recently, I was able to cancel the real estate contract (I had a 24 hour window to do this) that would have released me from this house. I canceled in a panic, because without the house, I would have had nothing in my name. So now I start again, alone, in an empty house, my energy drained, still semi-rooted. Time to ponder…
Once other issues are resolved, and I have everything I need to move forward, I’ll say goodbye to my beautiful, old home. I’ll walk away feeling lighter, knowing that I made a difference, knowing that I loved it with every ounce of my being — that’s something I’ll never regret.
I’m glad you kept your home, for it is your home and not just a house. Like you, it is well rooted, has weathered much, and with that strong solid foundation has a wonderful light airy feel that makes you want to dance. You’ll know when it’s time to move on, and, you are right, just now isn’t that time.
I’ve, we’ve, been concerned over where you’d go, what was going to happen, and it was a happy moment to hear you had a window to cancel the contract. Spread out again, be joyous in the home you love and that loves you, and take on one tree at a time in the forest that stands before you.
Love,
Adds
Initially I thought this was just a piece about your relationship with your beautiful house but it is really about ‘roots’, what they mean to us and how they shape and constrain us. Great post.
You were sort of right in your first thought. The relationship I had with this house mirrors the relationship I had with my husband — almost perfectly. But I can see where this post would cause people to think it’s about roots and how they shape and constrain us… Your idea, Malcolm, is probably even truer and adds another layer of understanding to this whole thing.
this is a perfect metaphor Lisa.. perfect. The house is not empty…refuel and let your garden thrive again.. where ever the roots take place. You are a beautiful writer my friend.
It’s funny because I everyone is seeing different metaphors for the one I intended. I had a relationship with this house that mirrored another relationship. Does that make sense? But thanks for the comp, Audra! I’ll take it.
I think you made perfect sense.. your metaphor was clear(at least in my little head I think I know what you are talking about) It is clever and smart writing
Oh, good. I think there must be multiple meanings – some people are more clever than I! Thanks for reading it – it was a little lengthy.
there is nothing better than knowing that you made a difference, and when the time is right you will move on and make a difference somewhere else
I thought I was being obvious but maybe not… did you gather at all, that the house was a person/relationship in my life…?
now it makes perfect sense – I had an inkling–but some days I am not one for the obvious
No, you’re not alone. It seems everyone is coming up with other meaning that happen to ring just as true. I’m not a great writer and so I constantly second guess myself. I think your interpretation is as true as mine.
PS I did ‘get’ the metaphor–it brought tears to my eyes.
You may be the only one? I thought it was too obvious but apparently not. The house is you know who – should I make corrections?
Reblogged this on Oyia Brown.
Thanks, Oyia! That’s very kind of you.
Not to over-anthropomorphize the house, but it sounds like it is repaying you for all the hard work you put into it, and now it is giving you a place where you can be comfortable and safe until you are ready to move on.
And if nothing else, we don;t have to worry about you being in an unfamiliar physical environment while everything else is going on!
Haha! Yes, from one who personifies to another, I did have a relationship with this house. The relationship I had mirrors another relationship, if you know what I mean… But maybe you’re right, the house, at the end of the day gives back more comfort and safety than my other relationship. At least it’s been more reliable and faithful. 🙂
I read this twice over, it was so beautiful, and when I did for the second time, I saw how you had transformed yourself over the years. Our homes are a mirror of our soul, and when we have done the work we are supposed to do, we move on. You’ll move on in the right moment, when you are ready. Lots of love to you, and thank you for your interesting posts since I started following you. It’s great to have you here as part of this community. Have a lovely Christmas and new year.
Oh, Yaz, thank you! I love knowing that I have such smart and sophisticated readers. As I’m finding out, there are many metaphors within this post. Maybe all of them are perfect. I like your idea very much – it happens to be absolutely true. Thanks for your wise input, always.
I wish for you a wonderful Christmas and New Year, too.
Lisa xox
Metaphor is perfect… and marching along the reality spectrum keeping the house is a good legal move. Very good. I’ll be taking Christmas week off from posting but if you want to chat over the holidays my computer will always be close by. Well done, darling. Well done.
Thanks, Vickie. I thought you’d like this. It makes sense for now. I had too much instability, too much anxiety. Now I can proceed with a clear head. It’s quite a relief. Knowing that you’ll be close by during the holidays is another good thing. I have much to be grateful for. xo
The metaphor is clear to me only because I know so much about your marriage and the house. It’s hard to put so much energy into something that gives back for a while and then breaks again. It makes you question why you’re doing so much work for someone/something that you ultimately can’t depend on.
I like the part about how the house was originally mistreated and abused. Good connection!
Thanks, my sweet girl!
You are such a good writer Lisa. Wow! You are so much like me Lisa! Were you a middle child? I was and that’s exactly the attitude I had about the beginning of my married life and the house we bought. It was definitely a shall we say “fixer upper” ? They always say, you get back what you put in. I think this house gave back to you in an unexpected way. It was there for you when you needed it most. I like that house of yours. And also you are a lot like those roots. You hold on and you never give up!! I think you should write a book about life through the eyes of your house! 😀
Yes! I’m a middle child, too! Isn’t that funny? When you’re young you always feel that you can love things and people back into shape. The house is truly my home – it has my fingerprints all over it. (not literally! ha!) As for people, all the love in the world can’t change someone who doesn’t love themselves. This was my lesson to learn. I didn’t want to give up. That’s the sad part — I probably would have kept trying.
I think I may want to write a book someday – thanks for the suggestion and all the encouragement, Linda. 🙂
Isn’t that something, Lisa? Well I kind of figured you were a middle child because us middle kids have a bottomless well of “try”. Our hopes definitely spring eternal!
One thing I’ve noticed in my life is that I’m never the one causing the trouble, I’m always the one who is trying to fix the trouble!! And it sounds like you’re the same way!
And how funny that you mentioned no fingerprints on your walls. (Ha!) When I went to get my license renewed this year, they had the hardest time getting my thumbprint to register because it’s actually worn off! Probably from scrubbing “other people’s” fingerprints off the walls!
It’s amazing the things we’ll put up with and try to adjust ourselves to. Sometimes I think we are adaptable to a fault. But then again, I’ve always been thankful for my ability to roll with the punches.
And then once I decide I”m not going to put up with something anymore, I don’t. Unfortunately it can take literally decades for me to make that decision.
I’m happy that you’re going to stay in your house. And with all your packing, now you’ve got everything all sorted out. And that’s the first step of the next phase of your wonderful adventure Lisa! 😀
Linda, you and I must be from the same tribe — we’re so very similar in our approach to life, our attitude, and coping.
Adaptable to a fault…Yes! In a war of attrition, I would win. I have nothing inside me that tells me to give up the fight – I just keep trying. It’s sort of sad, I guess. 😦
I’m just like you, Linda, once I decide I’m done, I stop. And also like you, it can take decades! I’m flexible and roll with the punches, too — always eternally optimistic that things will get better. (I think it gets on people’s nerves! LOL!)
You have no more thumb fingerprints! I guess all that scrubbing really does take its toll. haha!
I’m going to stay in my house until I have the big D all tied up. Then I’ll make my move. I can only handle so many stressful things at once. My coping is good, but it ain’t that good! I’d probably start eating Ben and Jerry’s by the quart if I had to deal with a move and a divorce. I will say, that having that window become available to cancel the contract, was a real blessing. I’d be an anxious wreck right now if I had no place to go.
I have exactly four plates and four glasses, a spatula, a wooden spoon, a couple of bowls, a pot and a pan in my kitchen. I’m talking, the bare essentials. The house is sadly empty – just the furniture and a few pictures on the wall. It’s a strange sensation. I don’t have the energy to go back and get my stuff out of storage. For now I’ll just live like an Amish woman – and maybe scrub some fingerprints! haha!
Welcome back to Chicago.
haha! I may need to meet you at the Oasis! We can nosh on Auntie Anne’s pretzels while I unload all of this craziness.
Lisa, you’ve been on my mind a lot lately. Very interesting metephor….I admit I was a little slow on the meaning. From one middle child to another, I hope you have found direction and I KNOW you will be much happier once the dust settles. Hope you’re able to enjoy the holidays with your children. And btw…you’re writing is very enjoyable, don’t under estimate your abilities…warm wishes, Ingrid
Thanks, Ingrid. That’s kind. I feel shaky with my writing skills so hearing you say that means a lot to me. Another middle child! That makes sense to me… I can see you as a middle child perfectly.
I’ll be with my children for Christmas so I know my heart will be at peace. The holidays would mean very little without them.
I sure hope that happiness awaits me. I think all the hard work over the years has tempered me — I’m stronger and wiser because of it. In that way it’s been a growth experience. (Albeit painful!)
Have a beautiful Christmas, Ingrid. I wish for you a bright New Year! 🙂
Lisa
It always is hard to say goodbye to somewhere you’ve lived and enjoyed living at. I’m still in a daze trying to find a place I can call home. But if home is where the heart is then does it matter?
You’ve given yourself time to get things more clear. Take advantage of it and I know you will land on your feet somewhere safe and happy again.
Thanks, Tim. For me, where I live, the space, the feeling or vibe is really important. I get almost uncomfortable in the wrong surroundings. I’ve heard that John Steinbeck was the same way, not that I’m making a comparison or anything, but I think some people have a strong sense of placement, like a strong sense of touch or hearing or smelling. I just happen to be sensitive to my surroundings. I know, it’s weird. For a long time, the angle of my house made me uneasy. I wanted to pick it up and turn it. haha! Hopefully I’ve made you sufficiently scared on my little ramble.
BTW – the relationship I have with my house mirrors the one I had with my husband. Very few people got that. Let’s just say, I’m no John Steinbeck! LOL!
Reading this again and from the first line I more clearly see the metaphor.
For what it’s worth I’ve read more of your stuff than John Steinbeck’s work. Not that I disliked Of Mice and Men or anything else he had written but I’ll take rereading every post on this blog over that any day. I don’t need to read about angry round fruit or whatever Grapes of Wrath was about.
haha! Thanks, Tim!
What a beautiful tale! You have more patience than I do, I’d have knocked it down and rebuilt a new one. I bet you could build a house, sounds like you basically recreated that one from scratch!
You have a guest cottage? Hell don’t bother coming to visit I’ll just come and move in there haha 😀
My door is always open for you, Pete. Come anytime you want. I’ll give you a great tour of Chicago. You’ll love it!
Metaphors aside, it is a good thing you kept it Speaking to the metaphor, I feel we all know you better now than before you write this.
I’m nothing if not an open book. It feels good to freely express myself and share my life with so many compassionate people. It’s been very uplifting.
Thanks, John.
I’ve got a lot of respect for having taken that decisions in the end. Glad you had the guts to chose for what felt best for you – I hope and believe it was the best decision, and I hope you are feeling a bit better already! x
Thanks NBI. The decision will be temporary until I get other things finalized. I need stability and to take things one day at a time — otherwise I turn into a nervous wreck. Even now, I can’t sleep properly. 😦 But hopefully things will slowly get better.
I hope you’re doing well. Always good to see your smiling eye! haha!
Lisa
Aaaah, that is so annoying to not sleep well… I think you’re right about the stability. I’ll be thinking of you! x
Lisa, what a beautiful metaphor. YOU are much like that beautiful home — full of wisdom, compassion, beauty and integrity. Stay strong – you can weather any storm, my wonderful friend. And you will. xxoo
Oh Brigitte. Life is so very hard sometimes, isn’t it? It’s taking all my strength to just get through each day with my sanity in tact. I drive around, listen to my music and spontaneously burst into tears. I’m sure I scare plenty of drivers! haha!
Thanks for seeing and feeling things in me that I can’t always sense for myself. It’s nice to be reminded, every once in awhile, that you have some good qualities. I feel like I’ve been walking through a desert for many years – I’m so parched in the area of kind words. Thank you for filling my cup, Brigitte. Your thoughtfulness is always felt on a very deep emotional level. xoxo
And now you have empty slate to create new memories and roots in the house and in life.
Yes. The idea of an empty slate can be exciting and a little sad. I just have to keep re-framing my situation so that it feels comfortable in my own mind. It can and will be positive as long as I’m able to keep that perspective. It’s not always easy.
Thanks, Patrick, for being so supportive and helping me to be hopeful. It’s a real comfort.
Lisa
Been there and it is hard. It is tough, but I used the the theory that I use when I hit a bad shot playing golf (and most of the shots I hit are this way) and it is FIDO-Forget It and Drive On. It may sound simple and but it works for me.
Love it! I’m gonna use it and I’ll think of you playing crappy golf, when I do. hee hee. I like having a little mantra or something to say – I think certain personalities respond to things like FIDO more than others.
Thanks, Patrick.
(My apologies, not sure how this post got past me)
While you may have thought you needed or wanted to sell your “home”, it’s not time.. You can make new and beautiful memories there.. Repaint the walls (metaphorically speaking) with your colors..I know these feelings you experience and in time you will be stronger than the Hydrangea..We invest so much of ourselves in these places/people and there comes a time when removing the root is necessary.. You remind me of a sunflower, they droop at first as they are growing, but by golly they stretch 6′ to the sun when in full bloom..
Ahh… the sunflower! Thanks, Lynne. My mother always compared me to a sunflower, too. Maybe because I’m almost 6′ tall? 🙂
I guess I have to stay just a little while longer until I get other matters taken care of. Nothing ever works out the way you think it will, or should, for that matter. So I guess I’ll stay rooted here for another season, ever mindful that things can change very quickly. Just another chapter in my ‘gripping life.’
(I wonder if I had called my blog “A serene and simple life,” if things might have turned out differently? haha!)
I’ve never owned a house. Therefore, the first thing I did was become a home owner after my life fell apart.
Even if it is just bricks and mortar, it grounds you, gives you something to hold on to when everything else seems to be crumbling.
I don’t even contemplate leaving my little spot. It’s grown comfortable to me, I know it’s quirks, it’s smells, it’s corners. I’ve made it mine, and mine alone.
When you are ready, you will know it.
And then you can finally say good bye to your old life and start something new, just for yourself.
That’s exactly right. I needed stability and this house, though I thought I was ready to leave it, drew me back in with the promise of familiarity, protection and peace of mind. Once I get other matters taken care of I’ll finally feel free to move on.
The universe is hard at work in my life, pushing and pulling and hopefully guiding me to a new happiness. I feel like I’m going through a crucible.
I wanted to tell you that this story made me love the house as well. I could just envision it and feel the vibe surrounding it.
Sandee, I’ve thought of you with regard to this house before, so it’s funny you say that. I picture where you live and then I conjure up the beautiful world you work in, and your dream of that little cottage in the woods. I know you would definitely love this house and the vibe here. It’s peaceful but happy. I wish I could snap my fingers and you could instantly be here.
Hey, I saw in Lily’s post that you wear Clinique’s Aromatics Elixir…ME TOO! That just goes to show you how alike we are – one more reason I know you’d feel at home here. My door is always open to you, Sandee – if you ever want to get out of that grunge city and take in the fresh air, I’m here. 🙂
Aww Lisa — this touches my heart! AND — you wear Aromatics! Wow! Coincidence — I think not!
I read this and hit ‘like’ last Friday. I stepped away and figured I would come back to comment, then my sister called with the news of the tragedy and that just stopped me in my tracks. This is why I’m just coming back today to chime in.
Thanks so much for opening your heart and for the invitation. I got way more than I could ever have imagined when I started blogging.
God bless Lisa,
Sandee
Ooooh!!! So feeling for you. Sending you love. and wherever you end up you have to buy a hydrangea plant. Plant your roots wherever you are… this is all temporary anyway. You DID Love your home and that is a good thing…keep loving.
Good idea! That’s exactly what I’ll do.
When I see it, in all it’s beauty and glory, I’ll also be reminded of you. 🙂
No one ever regrets loving someone or something – it’s the most noble thing we can do while we’re here.
To quote the late, great Sarah Palin, you can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig. Some homes are fixer uppers and some are move in ready. When you’re ready to move again, don’t get another fixer upper. Get a move in ready. You deserve a rest and all the joy that comes with it. HF
I think I failed in my attempt to convey the metaphor. I’m pretty sure you get it, right? In fact, you may be the only person who got it. I need a “move in ready” model, a healthy, happy person to start my new life with. In the end, I tried a lot of lipstick shades, boat loads of lipstick, but I still had a pig. 🙂
Thanks for all your knowing, HF, and your heart felt encouragement.
Lisa
The metaphor was perfect and the title was all you needed to lead us down the right path. A perfect metaphor works because the same truth exists on both sides. Sometimes that leads to confusion for the reader, but that must happen or the metaphor is not complete.
By-the-way, El Guapo and I have decided to duel at dawn. Which ever one of us wins, gets your fair hand. However, I can’t speak for El Guapo, but as for me, I am beyond a fixer upper. I need major repairs. I am one sad, falling apart house. In truth, my wife is the only woman I know that can stand me for more than a few minutes at a time. So, as to the duel, you’d better root for El Guapo, because I’m afraid most of my El Guapo is now El Crapo. HF
See, I knew I liked your wife. She’s done a fine a job in my eyes. (I might even be a little jealous of her.) I don’t believe you need any major repairs, HF. You’re charming and comfortable and I happen to like you just the way you are.
As for El Guapo… he’s still young. It’s just a matter of time before he turns to El crapo like the rest of us. 🙂
Yes, I’m like an old shoe–a bit worn, a few holes, some scuff marks, but certainly very comfortable. My wife is the love of my life and I have never taken her for granted nor taken for granted how fortunate I am to have her. I believe, knowing you from your blog, that you are a lovely person and will be a wife just like mine to the right man. Just don’t take on a project. The core of a person does not change. What a man is like when you meet him is what he will be like ten years down the road. The statement “people can change” is made only by people who want people to change. We can make small, surface changes, but what is inside–kindness, love, gentleness, caring, all those things we bring into a relationship and if they’re not there from the start, don’t expect them to show up later. Don’t get involved with a man who won’t cry when his dog dies and don’t get involved with a man who doesn’t love you at least 100 times more than his dog. HF
I know you’re exactly right. I just wish I had been a bit wiser at age 23. It’s my nature to stick with it, always hopeful and always able to see through a person’s “damage” to the good stuff. (even when the good stuff is barely there.) Like Linda Vernon said, some of us are, “adaptable to a fault.” Years tick by and then one day it occurs to you that you’ve been waiting for a very long time to be loved. I think I was attracted to what was familiar, my father had three wonderful daughters and he never loved any of us. Sometimes we sub-consciously repeat a pattern in an effort to heal the old wound. It’s another chance to make it right. Someplace deep inside of me was the idea that I would do whatever it took to make this man love me. And now, after 27 years, the original wound has been re-opened – fortunately, I understand enough to know that these are not my issues. It still causes me to feel sad, though.
I know what to look for now. I just hope my Mr. Wonderful/ Comfortable is out there.
Thanks, Harper.
Lisa