Wednesday, July 10, 2019

706 Potts Creek Road

Dear 706 Potts Creek Road,

Our time with you is coming to a close. 

It has been heavy on my heart to take a little time and tell you how grateful I am for you.

The day we listed the house, I cried. Yes, I’m the one who wanted to move, yet I sobbed when I began thinking of how good you’ve been to us over the years.

The year was 2003 and I was 26 years old. We had moved back to Covington after living in Bluefield for a few years. Kevin had got on at the mill and his probation period was finally up. Life had been tough for those 90 days making $9/hr with two small children. Momaw and Papaw made our house payment in Bluefield until we got that house sold so we could afford our rent. The Bluefield house sold, Kevin started making a decent wage and we began house hunting. We saw a few houses before you, but Kevin wanted you. In all honesty, I didn’t even like you. Sorry, but it’s true. You were a basic brick ranch, practical and sound, and of course that didn’t interest me. I was so eager to have my own house to paint and decorate and love, that I decided to just go with it. I mean, this would be a stepping stone. We’d live here for five years tops and then we’d get a bigger house before the kids got big. We moved in with the help of family and friends and began making this house a home. 
We have knocked down walls, ripped up carpet, and remodeled the bath and kitchen.

The fall of 2004 rolled around and I was unusually tired. Turns out a surprise pregnancy will do that to you. Yes, I found out I was going to be welcoming a third child into this three bedroom, one bath home and I worried myself to death about how in the world we were all going to fit. Surely there was not enough space here. Somehow, we made it work.

We have celebrated birthdays, holidays, and just everyday victories here.

I stood at the corner of Oneida Trail with Riley the first day of kindergarten and awaited the school bus to take my baby off to “big school.” 

I cared for other’s children inside these walls and I loved, fed, and laughed with even more. 

School projects were made at the kitchen table as well as thousands of meals consumed.

Pets have jumped, shed, and licked every inch.

I was in this house when I received the news that my Papaw had passed and I was here a year later when I found out Momaw had joined him. 

These walls have been the recipient of great news and unthinkable hurt. They have rattled with laughter, and they heard us all bicker and fight. They have watched us break one another’s hearts and forgive one another. 
It was inside this house that I began searching for my birth family and it was this house that welcomed my birth mom, cousins, and nearly a hundred friends and family to celebrate that reunion in 2013.

It was in this house that I found out that I had cancer. It was in the bathroom floor that I sobbed and in the kitchen that my family shaved my head. It was in my bed that I rested during chemo while my friends brought in food daily and my family took care of chores. 

It was also in this house when we celebrated that cancer being gone.

It was in this house that the flood of 2016 ruined our basement and it was here that we rebuilt. Kevin ripped out paneling and carpet and he and his dad replaced, day by day, flooring and sheetrock, while Riley lived on the couch with his dresser drawers stacked in the dining room. 

We welcomed five dogs, two guinea pigs, hermit crabs, and many blue ribbon state fair goldfish over the years. 

We welcomed Aimee from Germany into this home for nearly a year. 

It was in your front yard where we discovered a perfect little heart in the maple tree and carved our initials in it many years ago. We poured a concrete slab that holds our kids hand prints. There’s a mighty oak at the rear of the property that towers high. Riley brought it home from a cub scout jamboree as a sapling and we planted it just for fun, sure that it would never make it.

Many Mother’s Days were spent with my hands in dirt planting flowers around the yard, my favorite Mother’s Day tradition.   

Your fence did not keep out friendships, but quite the opposite. Your fence served as a leaning post for some of our greatest friendships here on Oneida Trail. You have been here for births, deaths, the highest highs and the lowest lows and I am so grateful for you 706. 

I know you will do the same for the next family as we move on and build new dreams and make new memories.

The memories we have made here will always be the dearest to my heart as you are the house that built our three beautiful children. Every square inch of you holds special memories for us. As little as you are, you were always enough.

Thank you 706 Potts Creek Road.

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