Bill and I drove by our first house today, so I jumped out of the car to take a picture for this story.
We bought this little bungalow in 1986. Ginger was four. Bill worked nights. And we couldn’t afford a real moving company. But that’s okay, because we really only had maybe five pieces of furniture, which Bill’s buddies brought over in an old Bell Telephone van.
In the evenings, before our actual moving day, Ginger and I would carry over a little bit, and a little bit, and a little bit more, from our apartment. And because it was just us we’uns, it was never anything big or heavy. Which meant that it was dishes, linens, pantry stuff, and all of Ginger’s toys.
Whenever we packed Ginger’s things into the car, I’d say that we were taking her things to her new house and her new room!
And when we got to the new house, I’d tell her that this was her new house and her new room!
One evening, when we had pretty much emptied her room at the apartment, Ginger started to cry.
Thinking she was just sad to be leaving her room (which, by the way is where she wrote GIGNER on the wall and blamed it on her dad), I said, “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay, you’ll love your new house and your new room!”
Little four-year-old Ginger looked at me through her tears and said, “I know. I just wish you and Daddy were moving there with me.”
ginnygram 
Hello…. I remember that house right after y’all moved in. I remember the stories about the ‘Cat Lady’ that owned it before y’all did. I mostly remember the chocolate frosting trick Ginger pulled on me. What a wonderful house that turned into a wonderful home!