I used to think the carpeted hall down the west side of my house was disgusting, I wanted to rip it up, but the owners of this house wanted to preserve the house how their mother left it. I just had to live with the carpet because the family who lived here before didn’t want to let their memories of this home go. It wasn’t a dirty carpet or anything, I mean, unless I hadn’t vacuumed. It was just mid-shag and beige and dated and a bit worn.
After six years of living here that carpet has grown on me. My daughters' bedrooms are down that hallway. And I’m shocked to say since my two oldest have left that I’ve discovered I’m one of those moms who leaves their kids' bedroom intact after they move away from home. I always thought of those moms as “baseball moms,” you know? The moms with the Toyota Siennas and tupperwares full of snacks that were carefully cut with a knife.
This morning I tiptoed down the carpeted hall to see if my youngest daughter was awake yet. It’s something I used to do every day, but somewhere in the last year I completely lost my routine. It’s been chaotic and exciting. I feel like instead of shaving years off my life, losing my routine for a moment–free wheeling my days–actually added years to my life. Instead of getting up and eating and exercising and taking Bea to school, I’ve been sleeping in, or getting up early and swimming in the pool. I’ve been writing early or making food. Bea’s been working remotely from home on her schooling. Things have changed.
This morning, all three times I checked my girl wasn’t awake. I texted her: “I’ve checked on you several times this morning and don’t want to wake you up. Please text me when you are awake.”
I hit send, and it was 11:12, I had missed making a wish. I decided to allow Bea to sleep in because the other night she played SIMS from ten p.m. until eight a.m. In my head I was spinning on what a terrible mother I am to allow my child to lose a night of sleep playing a video game. But secretly I was happy to have this quiet morning alone, so I could sit down and write this and maybe walk down the quiet squishy beige carpet to take another peek at the one daughter I have left in this house to raise.
Thank you Kelly for stirring more memories. We've lived in the same '50s bungalow since the '90s. Some things have remained the same as when it was built, like the wood-beamed living-dining room ceiling. Some things were changed by the previous owners, like the kitchen layout and orange metal cabinets (garage storage now), and we've changed some things, like adding contemporary railing to the front landing and steps. But carpeting, omg the carpeting in the basement was '70s orange, gold and brown plaid like one used to see in the bars in Alberta (remember that arcane law about patterned carpet?). I immediately wanted to rip out that ugly carpet, but our two sons were very young so my level-headed spouse said it wasn't coming up until they left home. Nonplussed, I said fine...then I'm going garage-saling for plastic basket chairs, string art, velvet paintings and macrame plant hangers. DH's response: Oh god, Deb, don't give it life!
Funnily enough, the above mentioned decor is now trending with the MCM retro style movement. The carpeting survived all manner of abuse including alt-screamo band jams. So did I. When we finally tore it up, the original flooring was revealed: Glorious turquoise vinyl tile with two black accent stripes running the length of the room, reminiscent of bowling alleys of the era. Plaid and vinyl are gone, but one son has not left the nest.
You may not have been sure precisely where you were going when you started this piece, but that was a solid landing.