At 2:08 am on Monday morning, April 30th, I drove my truck down the driveway for the last time. All the remaining items from the house that had served as our home for almost 39 years were packed into the bed and back seat. The house lay empty, silent, and dark behind me. There were no nightlights glowing in the windows of the children’s bedrooms, no late night swimmers in the moonlit pool, no teenager’s cars parked on the driveway, no birds on the feeder or squirrels on the ground below. All that remains is a quiet house and my memories.
I filled the birdfeeder with black oil sunflower seeds earlier in the day as I wondered if the new owners would continue feeding the critters after we were gone. I thought about the fox kits that visited this time last year, the green bean vines in the small plot in the back yard that I began growing after Mom and Dad could no longer garden, and the flower beds that I had watered one last time before leaving. It has been a good house, a great home, and wonderful place to spend our lives together.
We moved into this house the week of our first wedding anniversary in 1979; Pam, myself, and our Heidi dog. Over the years, our home was graced by seven miniature dachshunds – Heidi, Gretel, Madalyn, Lucy, Spencer (Big Buddy), Chloe, and Trisha. At first, we had no fenced in yard, so I would sit at the top of the steps and watch Heidi’s every move as she walked along the curb in the street light. Eventually, we installed a pool and fence and would let the dogs out in the back yard. Lucy insisted on sniffing every inch along the fence. Big Buddy, who had incredibly tender feet, would take two steps on the damp grass, then relieve himself on the patio. When finished, he would either walk backwards to get back on the patio or make two big jumps to get turned around and back on the dry concrete.
We brought Justin home to this house in January 1982. He arrived earlier than expected in December 1981. Fortunately, a case of jaundice allowed me enough time to get the baby furniture assembled before he was released from the hospital.
Jordan arrived in October 1987. Before her arrival, Pam and I were “experts” on raising children with the compliant Justin. We should have realized from the beginning that Jordan was destined to be an attorney. The defining moment occurred when she came home from daycare, crossed her arms, looked us in the eye, and said in a matter-of-fact tone, “My name is Emily and that is what you will call me”.
The large oaks in the front yard were transplanted from the undeveloped woods where the La-z-boy furniture store is located. Loop 281 was two lanes through the woods in those days as compared to six lanes for traffic, two shoulders, and a limited access turn lane. The retaining wall was built by Pam and I using her 1973 Volkswagen Beetle to transport the railroad ties. I carried on end of the tie while Pam drove the VW with the other end on the bumper. The storage building in the back was built with our own hands; Dad told me to make it 10’x16’ rather than 8’x12’ like I had planned and use treated lumber. We added a pool in 1985 and spent many sultry summer evenings swimming with our dear friends Randy, Micki, and Super Dave.
We will miss the sunrises that brighten the kitchen in the morning, the noonday sun that warms the pool and deck during the day, the evening sunsets behind the live oak, and the glimmer of the moonlight on the pool. We will miss the azaleas and dogwood blooming in the spring, the green beans in the garden, and the bees working the pentas and Mexican heather throughout the summer. We will miss Jace ringing the doorbell, asking if Justin is home as he walks to the pantry and grabs a Pepsi on his way out the garage door on his way home. We will miss the warmth of the raised paneling of stained ash in the den and wainscot. We will miss family and friends and laughter at birthdays and holidays.
As I drove down the driveway, I whispered a soft prayer thanking God for blessing us with this home and asking Jesus to give Pam and I grace as we transition to a new home.
Goodbye old friend, I will truly miss you.
Bradley Roberts Wyatt 