HOW DO YOU SAY GOODBYE?

How do you say goodbye to something that’s not only been a part of your life, but IS your life?

I know I’ve blogged before about Stone Manor (Mum’s house), but … I can’t overcome this massive change in my life.  I can only imagine what impact it must be having on Mum…

Stone Manor is my home.  It’s my safe place.  My comfort.

Yes, I left there long ago to start a life and build a home of my own, which I have done successfully, however, there’s no place like home.

So many memories flood to my mind… some blurry, some clear…

I remember (fuzzily) when I was little, Mum sent me to my room for being naughty.  I think this was when my room was going through the ‘purple’ phase.  I was like… four.

I remember pulling a stool in the shape of a sheepdog (don’t ask me – I didn’t design interior furnishings in the 1970’s) that I called Shep, to my door.  I remember climbing up onto it, pulling down the door handle, and opening the door.  I remember pushing Shep out of the way, and sneaking up the hallway to see Mum and Dad having a cuppa at the dinner table.  I stuck my head around the corner, hoping not to be seen…

It’s a memory that’s fading now, but I can still see the blue ‘body’ of Shep, and its big white head and floppy ears…  I wonder what ever happened to him…

When I walk along the driveway, I look down at the rough concrete footpath between the crossover and the driveway.  I look at the scars on my knuckles, and remember when I was pushing my little cousin in a pram ahead of me as I ran along, then tripping over, scraping my knuckles along the concrete as they were pinned under the pram handle.  I still shiver remembering that…

I remember walking out the back door at 17, and seeing this clapped up Torona in the car port.  I can still see Dad smiling as he handed me the keys.  I remember taping windows and taping up globe mags, ready for respraying, in the garage… I remember taking it for it’s first drive…

I remember designing and having a wardrobe company come in and install a new robe in my bedroom, which was going through the ‘green’ phase.  I remember standing on a trestle painting the cornice, and choosing the carpet. 20 years later, it’s still the same…

I remember making love to the man that would eventually be my husband, for the first time in that room. Sshhh.. don’t tell Mum.

I remember the old garage being dismantled (which actually ended up at my uncle’s house in Heyfield) and a new one being built.  I remember the bob cat getting bogged when it was supposed to be levelling out the foundations, and Dad being furious about it! I also remember the framework falling on my Uncle Royce.  He was okay.  Bred the Stone’s tough, they did.

I remember my friend Sharon trying to teach me how to drive a manual in her Suzuki Swift.  Oh yeah.  I remember bunny hopping it once, and the car leapt toward that very same, soon to be dismantled garage, giving Shaz a heart attack.  The lesson ended there.

I remember Dad building the fernery, the decking, the carport, the garage, the back room (with the help of Uncle Royce again), renovating the lounge, dining room, bathroom, bedrooms and back room. 

I remember trees being planted and removed from the gardens, plants being added and relocated, and pot plants multiplying by the hundreds. 

I remember cooking my first cake in the crappy oven that’s been there since the dawn of time.  Still cooks like a mo fo though, and has produced many awesome dishes.  I remember the smell of the house when Mum was baking.  The table would be covered in cakes and cookies.  I remember my cousin Maryanne and I sitting in the lounge with a box full of Chocky Rocks between us, and eating over half of them.  Mum use to make a double batch of Chocky Rocks, which would produce like sixty cookies.  You do the maths.  Maryanne and I were pigs that day…

I remember setting myself on fire when the tea towel I was using to lift the lasagne out of the oven, rested on the element for just long enough to catch alight.  That was fun.  No permanent damage, apart from a fear of naked flames.

I remember playing with my Lego in my bedroom. In the lounge.  In the back room.  On the kitchen table. I remember Dad coming home from work every now and then with a new box for me.  I distinctly remember him bringing home a fire truck. And space ships.  That was cool. Now that Lego will be handed on to my nephews to enjoy.  Hopefully they will love it as much as I did.

I remember Mum sitting down at the kitchen table with me playing card games.  I remember Dad teaching me to colour in between the lines at that same table.

I remember how the dining room chairs pinch my arse.  Thankfully, Mum’s selling them. Fucken uncomfortable things that I won’t miss.

I remember, at 16, falling asleep in my room whilst watching the Australian Open, and waking to Mum turning off the telly.

I remember hanging some of my cross stitches on her walls, as gifts to her.  I still look at them with pride now, and can’t wait to find a place for them in her new home.

I’ve many memories of sitting at the dining table with the oldies, and their stupid lovebird would be pottering around the table, eating a few grains of sugar off the side of Dad’s plate, it was so tame.  It would cuddle up in Mum’s collar and go to sleep whilst she ate.  However, if she wasn’t looking, it would get into her cup of tea and drink some, or it would shred whatever paper or envelopes she had on the table.  Fucken shredding machine, that bird was… he’s now resting peacefully in the garden.

I remember spending hours studying at the little desk I had in the spare room.  No computers then: I would hand write everything with different coloured scented pens that I absolutely treasured.  How different things are now.

I remember preparing for my wedding day.  Gorgeous Eloise came to do our hair, and we set up in the large hall entry.  I remember Charlie arriving to pick up something to take to the reception centre, and he and his brother had photos taken in the back yard.  I was peeking out the windows all the time, watching.  How handsome they looked…

I remember, that day, enjoying the gourmet chicken sandwiches I’d made, and fun with Iris, Marika, Shaz (photographer), Jade and Eloise.  I remember Dad coming in to tell us the flowers had arrived, and I remember pinning his ‘button hole’ on for him in the fernery. 

How beautiful the garden looked.  Oh my God, what colour and life.  The grass was like bright green carpet and the relaxed, cottage-style garden overflowed with colour.  That garden looks beautiful, even when it needs some love.  The number of times I’ve answered the front door to complete strangers asking questions about the plants, I’ve lost count of…

Now, a lot of my garden here at Allenbee Fields consists of cuttings and plants from Stone Manor.  A living legacy? Maybe.  I beautiful one, for sure.  *laughs* When I stop and think about it, there are little bits of Stone Manor in a lot of gardens out there… :D

I remember many a time, sitting in the back room waiting for Mary to rock up so we could go to the movies.  I could hear her car stereo as she turned in the driveway… if it’s too loud, you’re too old…

I remember Dad’s 1970-something Sandman panel van (yes – bright orange) pulling off Heatherton Road (1/2 a kilometre away) and into our street, the engine was that loud.  The kitchen windows rattled as it came up the driveway.

I remember that our friends and family never used the front door – always the back door, where they were greeted with a smile, a piece of cake, and a cup of tea (no Chocky Rocks, because Mary and I ate them all).

I remember Charlie would walk into the back door, straight to the fridge, and into the Mint Slice biscuits that Mum always has there for him.  Typical male; easily pleased :D

So, how do you say goodbye to something that’s such a part of you? 

Do you even say goodbye?  Or just ‘until we meet again?’ 

I think once Mum leaves, I’ll be hard pressed to go back again.  I don’t think I could bear to see someone else living in it, let alone the state the garden could end up in.  Apparently, the new owner is going to rent it out.  48 years of love in that property, I’d hate to think what a tenant will do…

Hopefully, treat it with as much love as we have.

Hopefully, appreciate it as much as we have, and make it their home.  That would be nice.  It is, after all, a home.

Farewell, Stone Manor.  Thanks for the memories.  You will always be in my heart.