I bid adieu to my childhood home.
My parents will be listing their home for sale in the coming weeks. They built this house in 1965 when the neighborhood had few homes. They painstakingly chose every single detail of this home combining my father’s love of Williamsburg and Early American architecture and my mother’s love of interiors and antiques. They only had 3 children at that point. I was born as a little Christmas surprise in 1971. My parents took such pride in this home. Mario Buatta decorated it in the early 1980’s. It has stayed much the same. This is the only house I had ever lived in until college. I was brought home from the hospital here. I was engaged here. This home is my playground, my childhood and now my past.
I had always thought that one day when my parents were ready to move, we would buy it and it would become my home once again. I have spent years upon years redecorating and updating it in my head. I had the Fromental wallpaper already picked out for the dining room. I knew exactly how I would do that addition on the back and the kitchen. I thought the pool I had always wanted was in my backyard. The timing just has not worked out. We have 2 children leaving next year and other circumstances made us make the excruciating decision to let it go.
When my sister, who is the listing agent, sent me the professional images and online tour this afternoon and I broke down in tears. It has been a surprisingly emotional journey that really caught me off guard. But, I thought I should share it…
Here are the images from the tour…along with my commentary that cannot be captured by a camera.
600 Museum Drive
Charlotte, NC 28207
The entry hall and the stairs where I put my shoes on each day…
The dining room where every holiday meal was served…
The formal living room…
The library was the room I would use only for research… the encyclopedias live in there.
We also had serious talks in here…usually you were in trouble.
In high school I had a party when my parents were out of town and people left beer in this corner cupboard when the party was shut down. The beer was discovered at dinner a few days later. The brown bottles had blended in with the majolica in the clean up process.
That corner cabinet caused lots of grief for me.
I do not want it.
Family dinner 7 nights a week was spent around this table.
I slyly gave the dogs that were under the table my green beans out of my napkin.
We each had a seat here.
The kitchen will forever smell like my Mother’s poundcake and Bertha’s country style steak and mashed potatoes.
The grill in the den will always remind me of Saturday night steaks and watching Hee-Haw, The Love Boat and Fantasy Island.
I spent my entire childhood watching tv on a tiny TV in the bottom left door of that hutch. My father finally revolted and got a big tv just a few years ago. She is still not happy about that.
I have logged a lifetime of hours on that sofa…often faking sick or watching the soaps with Bertha. She always sat in the corner chair and talked to the people on TV, usually scolding them for their nonsense.
My parent’s bedroom which was once my sister’s bedroom
My mother’s dressing room and bathroom painted by NY artist Robert Jackson.
My father’s dressing room and bathroom…
Downstairs guest bedroom that was my bedroom until I was 11…
My bedroom which was once the upstairs master.
The asymmetry of the windows drove my mother crazy. She had a false window installed with a faux painting of my dog looking in…it is covered by the bed post in this image.
My dressing room and the nursery where I slept until I was almost 5…I loved my crib…My children have also spent many nights there.
My bathroom hand painted by Robert Jackson in the 1980’s.
My brothers room…it looked different back in the day…I used to go out that side window and layout on that hot flat roof to get tan with baby oil.
My other brother’s room…it looked different back in the day.
This was actually my mothers furniture from her childhood bedroom.
Bertha’s room…it was small yet cozy. I always loved this room.
Playroom hallway that connected the playroom, Bertha’s room and my brother’s room and the back stairs…
The playroom…This was my everything. It has been a pretend store, school, salon, apartment, Dr’s office and everything you can imagine. Tears…
Porch…I used to nap out here.
The garden is lovely but, back in the day this was a true English Garden. There were boxwoods in every corner, a rose garden, daffodils and an English Knot garden.
What you cannot see is the little allee with the statue of St. Francis (patron saint of animals) and all the small marble markers inscribed with all out buried pets names.
This may be the hardest part.
Buttons, Ziggy, K.T, Pandy, Deacon, Chris, Bubba, Sotheby, Waddy, Pidget, Patch and Baby Z (and loads of hamsters and fish) are all a part of this home and my childhood.
They will forever be in my heart.
My play-yard with the playhouse. The treehouse is long gone,
I will forever treasure the happy memories in this home.
I got engaged on that front porch…
I pray it will bring another family many years of joy.
The house my be gone from my life but I will always have the memories… the Miranda Lambert song about her childhood home keeps playing over and over in my head.
If you are interested in any more details it is listed below with my sister:
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