the open house

After almost seven years in this place, strangers will be walking through it tomorrow, judging every aspect, assessing whether or not they will want to make it their home. I am a wreck. I look around the place and I see our lives reflected in every corner. We bought the house after we were together for 6 years. We were in our early 30s, deliriously in love and ready to start the nesting process. Shortly thereafter, we got two dogs -- los ñinos, as we call them. We thought we would never move. We told the agent,"we love the neighborhood, we love this house, we can't imagine we'll ever leave."A new job in Mayagüez, Puerto Rico took care of that notion. And, although we do love the house, things at work (and in Washington, D.C.) have gotten to the point that leaving, at least for now, is really for the best.

Partner and I will be away with the dogs, hiding, for a few hours, while the real estate agent towers over the spectacle, perky as ever. "Yes, they've taken very good care of 'the property.' They've done some amazing things with the yard. Have you seen the Plum and Nectarine trees? What about the figs?" I remember planting each of those trees. I remember planting each bush in the front yard, each shrub, the crape myrtle, the spruce, the leather leaf. I remember each time we opened the earth to welcome a new resident. I remember doing it exactly as my father taught me all those years ago. It doesn't matter that the dementia may have taken the memories away from him. I remember.

"Make the hole bigger than the root ball. Make sure you loosen the roots before you put the plant in the ground. Throw some softener into the ground. Make sure to break any large roots from other plants that may be in the hole. Loosen the fill dirt. Throw fertilizer at the bottom of the hole. Lower the plant gently."

It was a mantra. The same words were spoken over and over again. I thought he thought I was stupid. After years of listening to the dribble, I began resenting the words. I resented him. We owned a Tropical Fruit Tree Nursery. I had put in more than one tree in my life. And, yet, he repeated the same words each time. I tuned them out. I had heard them since I was 12.

Seven years ago, we landscaped every inch of this place. I remember telling Partner, this yard looks like crap, my Father "will not approve." The process began.

We made the hole bigger than the root ball. We loosened the roots before we put the plant in the ground. We threw some softener into the ground. We made sure we broke any large roots from other plants that were in the hole. We loosened the fill dirt. We threw fertilizer at the bottom of the hole. We lowered the plant gently.

I guess I didn't tune everything out.

By the way, if you buy the house, please take care of the garden. Copies of my father's memories live there.

Plum Tree

Mercutio ©2008