My Forever Home

Sixteen years ago when my dad told us his doctor suggested he move to Florida to get away from the harsh winters of NJ, my heart sank. Not only because he would no longer be living 15 minutes away from me and my kids, but it meant our house, the home I knew for almost 30 years, would no longer be ours.

After the initial shock wore off, we got to work and did some minor fixing up and staging to sell our beloved house. The first weekend it hit the market, it had multiple showings and one of the prospective buyers was Dennis, a friend I went to high school with. After he saw the house he remembered that it was my house and contacted me. His wife had fallen in love and they promised to love and care for it the way my family had. Two months later, Dennis and Aimee were the proud owners of my old house (348).

Dennis was super handy and Aimee an incredible interior designer and they took a home with beautiful bones and made it into a supermodel. Nine years after they purchased the house, I saw Dennis at our 25th high school reunion and he was generous enough to invite me over to see all the work they had done.

The next day, a friend and I went to the house and the moment I walked in I started crying. The front entrance was majestic with a cathedral ceiling. My mom actually told my dad when they bought the house that all she could picture was her daughters walking down the stairs on their wedding day. I was 7 years old when we moved in, but my mom’s vision came to fruition when I did indeed walk those stairs the day I got married.

As I walked through my/Dennis and Aimee’s house I was not prepared for the surge of emotions I felt. The renovated kitchen wasn’t high end appliances and a fancy island, it was a flashback of my mama cooking and my family sitting around the kitchen table enjoying her amazing food, laughing, sharing and loving.

It was where one of my best friends and I launched a very unprofitable business, “The Nicky Vicky Cookie Co”.  Our parents indulging us as we had our first taste of being entrepreneurs.

The living room wasn’t parquet floors and wall sconces, it was where we celebrated every Christmas-every doll house, every soccer ball, every blazer and bike was with me in that room. The living room where my dad continued to host every holiday years after my mom was gone and he got to spoil and love his grandchildren.

The dining room was every Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. Every birthday, every guest, entertained, loved and cherished. And where we played countless Trivial Pursuit matches where friends and family joined us for our annual kids vs. adults game.

“Mi casa es su casa” and our friends were always welcome and loved. Our family traditions ran deep and wide.

The parents tv room-where every night, without fail, my mom and dad would hold hands and eat ice-cream as they watched tv together. Whether it was a John Wayne movie my mom watched to make my dad happy or Pavarotti singing on PBS, it didn’t matter. Every night, no matter what, they made time to be together. My first and forever impression of true love.

As we made our way upstairs, I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing my parent’s room as some of the saddest memories were in there. My mom battled cancer and at the end of her life, almost all her time at home was in that room. Her once vibrant body, shrunken and weak from the chemo. Sometimes I’d climb into bed with her and we’d watch tv together or we’d lie in silence and I would remember that not so long ago sleeping with her was such a treat.

Of course, I got older and it was no longer cool to sleep with my mommy, but as she slipped away day by day, I wanted more than anything just to be with her, in whatever way I could. Even if she was sleeping, even as she was dying. I just wanted her to stay.

In my bedroom, where I got to know my first best friend, my sister, and the endless hours we spent talking and laughing. The same bedroom where we had countless sleepovers. The same bedroom where I got ready for my wedding and ready for my mom’s funeral. Every smile, every tear, every memory captured in the essence of those walls.

Dennis and Aimee may have transformed my house, but all the memories were right there and I was so grateful I could walk in those spaces and feel them in the most tangible way, like a vivid dream you are so grateful to wake up remembering.

Now, 16 years later, Dennis and Aimee are selling their/my house. Dennis sent me the photos and once again, each photo, each room, a flurry of memories, an emotional barrage hard to contain. So as I type through tears, I am so grateful that someone as amazing as Dennis and Aimee made my house their home.

I hope and pray that a wonderful family buys 348 and not only sees the spectacular beauty of a breathtaking house, but that they genuinely feel the incredible love and memories that were made there and will forever be part of the foundation… and in our hearts.