Seven years ago, I moved for the final time—during this life

A lone dutch iris amid the shrubs

-view from the front porch

                   Seven years this month, Kid Billy and I moved into the family home upon the demise of his grandmother and my mother in late March of that year.

                  Dad and his dad, Noah David Couch, built this rock and brick abode in 1932 sometime after their other house, which sat a little west and a little north on this hill, burned. “N. D. Couch, 1932” is scratched on the concrete sill of the (now) bathroom window.

                When Dad and Mom moved from “the Little House”—a smaller rock-and-brick abode farther north and within walking distance—with five children, the youngest not a year old—the family moved in with Dad’s mother. Granddaddy had betaken himself to Houston for construction work and Grandmother refused to go.

              Soon, we kids learned the names of the various areas in this “huge” house. The concrete front porch—facing east, stretched the width of the house. Two-thirds of it was roofed. Then there was the living room, the sun room, the dining room, kitchen, and beyond that, the breakfast room and a dark hall leading to the large, partially-roofless back porch--this one extending only from the back door to one of the back bedrooms.

             Three bedrooms opened from a squarish hall: the back room whose two west windows look out on the porch, called “the boys’ room;” the northwest room with two windows on each wall, called “the girls’ room,” a space for an as-yet non-existent bathroom, and Mom and Dad’s room, also on the north, with two windows, plus a door opening into the living room.

             Above was “the attic,” below was “the basement.”

             I lived here until I married in 1960, then after 46 years that saw many changes--both in my life and in this house-- I moved back “home.” 

            Brother Bill (sibling, not preacher) knew an electrician and that’s where we started in 2006: Terry took out all the original black-encased, knob-and-tube wiring, added new outlets, and increased the amperage, added one ceiling fan inside and another on the shed porch. Now, it would be safer, at least.
           I took down all the drapes and curtains in the main living areas. The sunroom became my “office,” sometimes called “the blue room.” The walls and ceiling still are the original plaster, though cracks abound in the ceiling. And I read last Saturday that in older houses, cracked plaster ceilings should be replaced with drywall. Not under my watch!

           Eventually, both the gas and water lines had to be replaced. The water heater in the basement, which very often had to be re-lit because of high water after a rain, was replaced with an electric one, so that nothing is down there now except iron braces, floor joists, wires, old fruit jars and milk jugs. Oh, I did buy a sump pump, and later, a water vacuum.

           Three air-conditioners were in the house when Kid Billy and I moved in, and we quickly added one in each of our bedrooms. Soon, two of the old units had to be replaced and while we were at it, I added one in the office. My electric bill during the summers is way up there, but so be it.

            I’ve had several trees cut, and now it looks like two of the three large red oaks must go soon. I may also take down the giant hackberry whose large limb split off and fell earlier this year.

            And I’ve enlarged Mom’s front flower beds by twice or more. As I write, the gardenias are blooming as well as the Easter lilies and the daisies.

            I think we’ll stay.