Parking in Mom’s Garage

When Michael and I speak about selling our house, the kids get sad and tell us they don’t want us to sell. They want to stay. They like their room, their best friends living down the street. “We don’t want another house,” they protest. “We like it here.”

This is a normal response. Change is hard. We like our house, too, and even though we have grown out of the space, their whimpers stir up my own sentiments about this place, and I waver, wondering if we would even be better off in a new house. Maybe we’d be trading one drawback in for another one; maybe a new house isn’t the answer but de-cluttering and simplying is.

This afternoon I went to visit my mother. Since it was so windy out, she offered to open the door on her newly built, attached garage and let me park in Dad’s space.

Mom and Dad’s garage has two stalls but each one is oversized so one vehicle door can be opened and never risk hitting the side of the other vehicle. It is sheet-rocked. It is clean. And in the corner near the oversized stairs that lead to the house there is yet more space the size of a small bedroom designated for storage.

It is a big garage.

I parked the van, shut off the engine, and opened the side doors to let out my girls. I realized this is the first time in the three years of owning the van that I have parked it in a room. I liked it.

I liked not being outside. I liked not having to fight any wind or cold with my bags and young kiddos to make a race for the front door. Inside the garage was easy.

I thought, I need to get me one of these.

Michael and I make due with our single car, detached garage. We park anything–lawn mower, bikes, red wagon–but our vehicles in it. We will never build our own double garage if we keep our house. Our lot and its place among our neighbors’ lots would make it a difficult, expensive endeavor.

The only way we could get close to having our own sheet-rocked, attached, oversized miracle of architecture is by moving. Moving requires risk. It requires change. And some days I don’t feel that brave. I am like my kids in their protests about leaving their home for another one.

Parking in that garage was inspiration. It was a bit of assurance that change can be grand.

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3 thoughts on “Parking in Mom’s Garage

  1. Growing up, in no way would my parents ask our advice on moving, you were going when, where, and how as they wished. My new wife, didn’t ask her kids, but she did take in their advice, and that puzzled me to no end. Old school, I guess, when you start paying some of the bills, then your intake is needed, till then pack your room we are moving.

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    • I think it’s all right to be old school on some issues. Kids may not understand the whole picture parents have when it comes to making adult decision like moving, changing jobs, etc. Sometimes it’s better to have boundaries like that instead of what I do. I tend to let my kids weigh in, then squash all their ideas when I don’t agree. 🙂

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