The Deep Sixes

An Open Letter to the Person Who Buys My House

Greetings human being!

You recently purchased the 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom blue house that I recently vacated. Congratulations! You’ve just come into possession of the first piece of real estate I have ever owned. Well actually, I guess the bank has owned it this whole time technically, but nevertheless congratulations!

 I will also say “sorry,” but we will get to that later. 

What an interesting thing, real estate is. Humans were nomadic for so long, yet somewhere around XXXX years ago, we discovered that we could cultivate plants and livestock. This meant we could have more babies for exponentially more work! It also meant that in order to fully sustain ourselves we would need to form civilizations and cooperate! Poor trade in both cases, if you ask me. 

A few millennia and some capitalist theory later, I bought a house. With the help of a bank, and the VA of course. 

You see, I had, like, zero money. No savings, no significant capital saved, just gumption and my inherent Caucasian-ness to rely on. And the VA. Mark this down as the only, and I mean only, service the VA has provided me with that has changed my life for the better. 

What was I doing buying a house in that situation, you ask? Well. First off, rent is a racket. A bank could decline to give me a mortgage where the payment is $900 per month, but everyone is perfectly fine if I spend $1500 per month on an apartment that’s half the size? Bullshit. Second off, we had a baby. And after some poor luck due to Mormonism, we ended up living with my mother in law and a newborn, which was suboptimal if for no reason other than I need my personal space. 

Fast forward to the end of 2012, and thanks to the generosity and flexibility of the guy flipping our house, and the hard work of our literal saint of a real estate agent, we had our first house.  It was a modest house in a nice neighborhood, quiet tree-lined street, excellent schools, walking distance to the park. It was paradise. 

I need to take a second to talk directly to my real estate agent here. Leanne, you were and still are without a doubt one of my very favorite people on the planet. I am convinced that God acted through USAA to put you in our lives. Your tireless work on our behalf, sitting with us as we tried to feed J in a strangers house, chasing vagrants out of screened in porches, ditto birds, it was everything we needed and could have possibly asked for at the time. I will always be grateful for you and your continued friendship, and I apologize for all of the communism I post on Facebook. Leanne, we love you. 

Ok, sorry about that, she is important. 

Anyway, you want to hear about the house? Sure! Walk in the front door, which we rarely used, you’ll notice the stairs we never put a railing on. The kids don’t really seem to mind, and they’ve only really started falling off the stairs this spring, so no harm no foul. 

Straight on are the kids’ rooms and their bathroom. The hallway had a bookshelf which held a small portion of our eclectic book collection (the rest were in boxes in the basement). The last room in the hallway belonged to J. It was the room he first slept by himself in, the room where he climbed out of his crib in the middle of the night crying and scared the crap out of us. It is the room where he has spent hours doing school during the pandemic, meeting his third grade teacher only through a screen, and also where I spent hours rocking and singing him to sleep. We painted it relatively recently, and it’s a super dark color, so I hope you like blue. 

V’s room used to be the guest room, but who needs guests when you have a daughter. It has held the requisite number of house of sleeping, time out, booboo kisses, and snuggles. The path from that bedroom to the main bedroom has probably been worn permanently into the floor by V’s insistence on coming into our bed every single night. 

Speaking of children not using their own space, the only person who has really used that bathroom and tub is V. J preferred to shower and defecate in our bathroom for whatever reason. 

The living room is next. We had a number of different TVs, couches, TV stands pictures in that room over the years, but that was never the most important thing about it. That room was where we ate bbq right after closing, on the floor, so shocked that someone would let two kids buy a house. It is also where, while being coaxed by a bottle, J first crawled. It has held numerous birthday parties and Christmas mornings. We never used the fireplace, and I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been inspected in 13 years, so you should think about doing that. 

The room that is probably supposed to be the dining room, but we always called the sun room, was one of my favorite places in the house. We hung crystals in the windows for the last little bit, and watched as rainbows danced all over the house. 

The kitchen is long and narrow, and could use some better lighting, but you can still make delicious pancakes or grilled cheese or even birria de res in it. The oven is small, but is perfect for baking cookies or warm crusty bread with cheddar and a hint of jalapeño. 

Outside in the back there are so many flowers and trees. Sure, one of them is obviously dead,  but another one of them is something akin to a cherry blossom, and if you’re lucky there will be one afternoon in the early spring where you’ll notice it’s branches are covered in white blooms. A day or so later you’ll be amazing to see a blizzard of petals falling through the yard like some kind of Kurosawa film, then it will be over. That tree is an excellent allegory for life and it’s impermanence, appreciate it. 

Behind one of the bushes you’ll find an area that’s a bit beaten down. Those paths are probably from the dog, but the large hollow area is the “secret basement,” so named by J and V. It’s an excellent place to scheme or hide from the king of bad guys.

We had a bunny, once. It was the spring and summer of 2013 or 2014, and every evening a brown rabbit would visit the back yard right at dinner time to eat clover and hang out. We named him Brad, and he was punctual and consistent. After that winter we never saw him again, but once in the evening during our last week in the house, a small brown rabbit hopped through the back yard and ate some clover. If you see Brad, tell him thanks and we miss him. 

There are birds, of course, but a lot of them. There are at least three pairs of cardinals that nest nearby. The males like to get together in the evening and yell at each other. I wouldn’t get in the middle of that, it’s usually over something nonsensical. 

If you place a feeder by the side of the chimney you’ll get hummingbirds. I saw seven at one time once. Tell them we said hi, and give them our forwarding address. 

I have regrets, of course. I never changed the ugly ceiling fans. Our old beagle wrecked a bunch of the carpets in her last year of life. We never finished the basement, or did any meaningful landscaping. We never painted over the beige in most of the house. 

But there were so many memories.  Cheerios on the floor of the kitchen after a toddler escaped their crib. Feetloaf. Air guitar solos. Dancing to Elvis. Drawings of spider and jellyfish. Movie nights and snack dinners. Fireworks in the driveway that set the bush on fire, but only a little. 

That house took care of us when we needed it most. It kept us safe, warm, and dry. It held our laughter, our tears, our snuggles, our big conversations, and our bad jokes for 8 years. We love that house, and we hope you will too. Take care of it for us.