We were moving back to California, something I never imagined we’d do. Not move back by circumstance, instead of opportunity, of choice. We had left California, our home, almost ten years prior. We were ‘chasing the dollar’, as I put it. Whosever job or opportunity took us to the next place, the other would follow. We were married, we were a team.

Not only had we never heard of this city, we were new to the area and completely unfamiliar. I remember the day we came to see the house and you fell in love with it. I remember as we sat in a swirled loveseat in the Living Room and you saying to me in a low and excited voice, “It shows well.” I agreed. Even the setting seemed surreal. The blinds were mostly closed and just enough sunlight shown through to keep the room in a ‘quiet’ setting. The house did show well, and we decided to make an offer. Far more than we ever thought to pay for a house, but we did it. You were the one who knew our finances, what we could or could not afford and although we were both working, you said that if between us both only one of us had a job we’d still be able to afford it. I always trusted your judgement.

The house was going to cost us a lot of money, but it was just the right size. Not too big, not too small. It’s size was definitely manageable for the two of us and our two (then) dogs, Jerry and Brandy. One of our requirements for a new house was one that had a large backyard where the dogs would be able to run freely and play. This one had it, and it was rather nice and quite expansive.

Inviting, warm, and beautiful. A work in progress, even after 30 years. It stays in the same place and it looks essentially unchanged rom the outside. The inside however is filled with you, far and wide, on every wall, in every room, in every corner. This is the home you built. I agreed to your every decision. You had a plan, always.

What neither of us knew then was thirty years down the line you wouldn’t be here anymore. Gone. You didn’t leave ‘me’, you left this earth.

Throughout our time here we would always say ‘When we retire, we’re going to sell the house and move out of State.’ The OC, it’s too expensive to live here. We managed quite nicely though and never had it rough. After you passed your dad said to me “You’re not going to move now are you?” My answer was a definitive ‘No’. I can’t move now, I don’t want to move now. If I moved away from here, from our house, I would be moving away from the home you built. This house, this home, is ours and it houses most all of our memories. Moving from our home would be moving away from you, moving away from Brandy’s Tree, moving away from all aspects of my last 30 years with you.

No way, I’m staying now. Sure, I could sell the house for three times our purchase price, but money is no longer the object and hasn’t been for many, many years now.

You took care of me then and I know you are taking care of me now. This home you built is my physical memory of all that is you, and I will never let that go until the day I get to see you again.

And nothing else will matter.