But this is just a house. It's my childhood home, yes, but what makes it so are the people and the things inside of the walls. I could have grown up exactly the same in the house next door. I could have lived in 40 houses and still turned into the same overgrown child I am today. I'm making peace with my house. I'm making my peace with Portland as I prepare to say good-bye to her.
These are the tiny details I thought I could never be without. I thought I would not survive without my beloved home in Portland. That old fan- had the same one my ENTIRE life. That Yosemite picture hung above my bed as a toddler and it hung above my son's crib. That flying pig is an inside family joke. The dinner plates that my grandfather gave to my mother. The cookbooks and the scrapbooks that I spent hours thumbing though. That copper Aztec calendar was Hector's Goodwill find. My mom's blue glass obsession always had led to conversations with newcomers to the house explaining how we aren't really alcoholics.