The Last Exit

In the previous three years, I had walked out that front door a thousand times. Never before had I done it with such a lump in my throat. The coolness of the morning air played on my arms and cheeks as I walked down the granite steps. I paused on the sidewalk and gazed at the empty structure that had been such a good home.

Almost three years earlier to the day, we bought the place. Back then, it was a brand new house. It had never been lived in. I signed the documents grudgingly. We considered many houses. The truth was, we couldn’t find the house that we wanted. We chose this one by default. There were things not to like about the place. It didn’t have the three car garage I wanted. The interior layout was poor for entertaining guests. With my poor attitude, who would have thought I would fall in love with the place.

As I stepped back from the house for a better perspective, the dampness of the morning dew clung to the grass and soaked into my sneakers. The lump in my throat grew harder.

I had mowed this lawn on countless occasions. It was therapeutic to come home from work on a summer afternoon and climb on the lawn tractor. Even with a riding mower it took the better part of an hour to mow the expanse. While making pass after pass, the throaty song of the tractor engine mixed with the song of the birds in the thick forest of trees that hugged the yard.

The backyard in particular had been a piece of paradise on earth. In Summer months, as I lay on the hammock with a good book in my hand - there was a sense of solitude. It was just me and mother nature. With five heavily-wooded acres, there were no neighbors to see or intrude. In winter months, it turned into a wonderland of white with the surrounding trees drooping after a winter storm. On crisp winter evenings, the steep slope of the snow-covered lawn played host to many family home evenings of sledding fun. All laughed in unison as they picked themselves out of the snow after a “chain” run down the hill, while Yodi bounced about the yard with a happy tail and an occasional bark . Sledding was enjoyed not only by family, but by every neighborhood kid. They spent many after-school hours sledding at the Fuller’s.

The voice of our real estate agent momentarily brought me out of my thoughts. The lump in my throat prevented me from replying. Tears threatened to roll down my cheeks. My duaghter Mandy stood a few paces away. Her tears were already flowing. We hugged each other, both sad to leave our home. Donna's heart was full as well.

From the front, the house appeared to be a regular two story structure. From the rear, with the walk-out basement, the structure raised a full three stories from ground level. Unlike when we moved in, the basement was now fully finished, a project I had been proud to show to an occasional visitor – the game rooms, the extra bedroom and bath. This was in marked contrast to the open expanse of studs and insulation it had once been. My memories of the project included countless hours, not to mention sweat and blood - literally. A hungry power saw had chewed up my hand, resulting in a trip to the emergency room, follow up surgery and months of rehab.

On the left side of the house stood two cherry trees. They really weren’t much more than saplings, but one of them was already bearing fruit after only two years in the ground. They stood as a memorial to my late father-in-law, Al Gustainis. But they also stood as reminders of our many wonderful neighbors in this quiet secluded neighborhood….., neighbors who cared enough to give us a gift certificate to a local nursery so we could plant a tree in Al’s memory. Those were the kind of people this neighborhood offered – good caring individuals.

Our agent stood in the driveway, content to leave us in our thoughts. This was the same driveway that we watched a large bear lumber down on an October morning the previous year, the same driveway that a 30-head flock of wild turkeys wandered across as they made their way through our yard, the same driveway that was such a winter’s challenge. Sliding down the icy driveway with all four wheels locked up was a bit harrowing, but the flat near the house always provided room to stop before slamming into the house.

It wasn’t just the house and yard that was hard to say goodbye to, but the whole surrounding area. The New England countryside boasted clear flowing water in every creek and river bed, and of course many swimming holes. There was one in particular that we visited frequently, only five minutes from the house near the stone-arch bridge. The cool water and the mammoth boulder which provided a swell jumping platform offered refreshing respite from hot summer days.

Yes, we were saying goodbye to much more than a house.  We were saying goodbye to a community, a way of life, to many church friends and others.  It was time to leave. We dried our tears and got in our car. We were leaving a home and a neighborhood that we loved.  But, we were taking some wonderful memories with us.