Gimme Shelter

In June 1998, my life and soul imploded. I was driven up to a freezing cold town, to live here:

A rehab. (Or "the hab," for those in the know.) We all used to joke that in the brochure it was described as "..a rambling old house .."

Oh if those walls could talk - the naked flesh, the covert sneaking ..... the tears that were shed. The cycles broken and friendships formed. The hard stuff in group therapy. Every time I have struggles in my life ... I wish I was back in here. Safe, learning to live again. Free from responsibility.

The next house is special too ... I moved here from the hab, and lived here when I met Dave. He totally wanted me bad, back in the days when he wore beige overalls to work. We shared a ridiculous pash on the front porch late one night. Kissing sober was terrifying:



I moved in to Dave's flat in May 2000:



We often talk of that year we spent together, alone. Doing whatever we wanted. I got down on my knees and begged for Gods help in this flat ... and I truly meant it. My life began, then. Max was conceived in this flat, the weekend of my 29th birthday. My stepson Tim came to live with us when he was 8 years old. This funky flat above a shop in the main street. The rent was $155 a week, there was a white cat named Bruce who would sneak in all the time. I planted broccoli in the backyard, and separated myself from my family of origin. One of the hardest but best things I ever did.

This was the next one, the dear little house we rented while Dave was building our house:



Close enough to town so I could walk, as I still didn't have my drivers license. We brought Max home from the hospital to this house. My heart fell in love with him a thousand times a day. Dave and I would bundle him off to counselling sessions because we would fight so hard. Sometimes we would fight so hard in the counselling session, the therapist had to be umpire and Max lounged lazily in his bassinet in the corner. Whoopsies! It was a huge adjustment period, for all of us. Max grew - and so did I.

And this one, this big beautiful home on a 4-acre block:



We have lived here for six years now. Dave says he could never do it again, so I guess we are kind of stuck here. This house has seen tears and laughter ... and fear. These walls have heard a baby cry and a mothers pain and a father vomit until he passed out. A boy learnt to ride his bike around the driveway. A naughty stepson threw a party and wrecked it. Parties and family dinners and sexy love time in front of the fire while all the kids are at school. I wonder what more it will see?

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I've had the idea for this blog post for a while. All of this houses are within a 15km radius of each other, so I drive past them often, marvelling at where we have been. Who we were, all that happened. Four walls and a roof .... that's all. I moved around so often as a child, it was terrible. One thing I want to give to my children is a sense of belonging somewhere .... a "home."

I'd love to know what your favourite houses are, and why. What happened in your four walls? Please add your URL to the Linky below so we can all have a stickybeak - you don't have to include a pic if you don't want to. There's no winner or anything, just some kind of creative sharing circle thing I totally made up. You're welcome.


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Lastly, THANK YOU for your wonderful love and glee in regards to Dave's continued remission. It's been a big week, full of big decisions. We are so happy right now, that we better hurry up and be more happy before something bad happens HA.