Bye Bye Blue House
***First off, let me start by saying that we are praying for everyone affected by Hurricane Irma as it swept through the Caribbean into our beloved Key West and up the coast. We also continue to keep our thoughts with the people in Texas affected by Hurricane Harvey. In light of the recent events, it is difficult to talk about home, when so many are left missing or picking up the pieces of their own. Home is more than a physical place, as you will read. It is a family’s greatest source of memories. Our hearts are with you and we will continue to support those that have been devastated by these powerful displays of raw nature. Please make sure to donate and help in any way you can.
Last week was an emotional one folks. On Tuesday our house officially hit the market and on Sunday night we finally sold our beloved blue house (well, it’s gray now). I sat there, in our emptied out bedroom and cried into my hands. You see, this house and this man that I am blessed to get to call my husband saved me. They provided a life and a sense of security I never knew existed.
I first met the blue house on Rillridge in the Spring of 2013 before a party. I remember walking into Paul's dining room and thinking "I would do something with that window if I were him…maybe some curtains." I was already envisioning what I could change and I didn't even really know the guy very well! After we started dating, I was given the chance to actually DO something to that entire room when Paul decided to build a new dining room table. I picked out the paint color and went out and bought burlap drapes to bring in that modern farmhouse vibe I got from him. And so it began...
**We still find that we like to shop like this "Do you like this for the dining room?"
The dining room was my first taste of interior design. Since I moved in, we have worked tirelessly to make this place look and feel like home. I thought that as we are 13 days away from turning over the keys, that I would look back on some of the projects and a few of my favorite memories at the Rillridge House.
The dining room has been the backbone to many family dinners and various parties through the years. Some of my fondest memories have been made in this room. Every birthday party I’ve thrown started here, every Valentine’s Day dinner we indulged in, every pot of gumbo that Paul cooked for our friends, every late night discussion about our dream house over cold beers, and every load of folded laundry ended up at that very table.
When I first decided to move in, there was only one specification that had to be made. We had to have a fenced in backyard. Let me paint you a picture…
One day, while Paul and I were hanging out on the very tiny back porch, we noticed that a certain little, white fluff ball wasn’t hanging by our heels begging for food. We looked all over the house, to no avail, when Paul and I noticed that the traffic to the street that we live off of was backed up. It didn’t take long to see a familiar fluffy little white tail bopping along in front of the trail of cars. And that is why Paul found himself hand digging posts that following weekend and where I got my first go with a nail gun (I LOVE the nail gun). This paved the way for me to move in and eventually for us to get a second fur baby; Rebel.
With the addition of the fenced in backyard, Paul took notice that the deck, which was barely big enough to get a small square table and 4 chairs around; could be bigger. So, we found ourselves on another weekend, demoing the deck. The new deck is almost four times bigger than the old one and we have held some pretty amazing parties out there. The fire department only showed up once…
My all-time favorite memory is when Paul and I got engaged. I was in our bedroom getting ready for dinner on our anniversary and Paul was in the bathroom taking a shower. I was putting in earrings and checking myself in the mirror when the door to the bathroom swung open and Paul began speaking.
“I don’t think I’m going to make you wait 7 years to get married…"
I turned around to see him fall to his badly beaten baseball knee, ring extended in a shaking hand, asking me to marry him. I didn’t cry, even though I’m practically bawling as I recall the memory. It was the simplest, sweetest, most perfect proposal. In our home, where so much of our lives have been shared.
Another favorite memory (or collective memories) are all of the holidays that we have celebrated together. You will quickly learn that I am a Christmas fanatic (like right now I am at my computer typing this with my headphones in, listening to Christmas music). In marriage there are a couple of big questions that make or break a relationship…one of them is “colored or white lights?” I grew up a colored light kind of kid, but as I got older and started finding my own decorating style, I found that I much prefer the clean look of white lights on the tree. Paul is a multi-colored, bubble light man. And I adore that about him as long as it’s every other year. I have given him back to back years of colored lights so that our first Christmas in the new house will truly be a winter wonderland of white lights. That being said, my memories of fires in the fireplace, sipping boozy hot chocolate, wrapping presents on the floor while watching Elf, and trying unsuccessfully to keep our dogs from knocking over our fresh tree and splaying needles and ornaments everywhere have been some of my most magical and most loved.
Dear readers, I know that you can imagine, there are 4 years of memories that I could write about for a lifetime. Every room has a handful of stories to tell. Every idea I found on Pinterest that Paul made a reality, every time we decided to just "paint a room because it's a Thursday", or every time we felt like the house was missing "something." Paul has memories of buying this house with his brother, various roommates, and nights spent solving the world's problems in the garage with a case of beer and a couple of friends. We've had fights that have vibrated the walls and doors that slammed so hard, the hinges could almost be heard protesting. We've waltzed on those terrible Spanish tile kitchen floors, I've fallen down the stairs, and Paul's dangled from the roof tops. We have beat this poor house to the bone and given her the best reconstruction job we could. She's been pretty good to the Roney Family.
Around the house, there are little reminders of all of the hard work that Paul and I (mostly Paul) have put into it. There are small messages in the deck, under our bedroom hardwoods, and on the paver patio. Little well wishes for future homeowners that make the blue house their home. I will forever love the Rillridge House and hope that some family comes along and makes their own memories inside.
As with any home, I wish for it to provide protection from the hard times. I hope that it absorbs the laughter and the exciting hopes and dreams of its occupants. And I pray that the Rillridge House is home for anyone who steps foot across the threshold. Goodbye sweet blue house.
