Our House in Grand Rapids
Moving day at our house in Grand Rapids, and everybody came to help. The flag went up on the porch bracket by the front door, and by evening there were two guys parked on the porch behind the iron railing with drinks, which felt about right.
Inside, the boxes stacked up faster than anyone could open them — dish barrels along the wainscoting in the dining area, the card table set up with folding chairs so Grandma had somewhere to sit with a red cup while the rest of us hauled. The kitchen got worked over first, plates coming out of the paper and up into the cabinets, three people at it at once around the island.
The living room is still bare except for a stereo on the floor in the corner and one white curtain hung on its rod. The basement is painted — red walls, dark floor, an old metal desk down there already.
Out back, the grass got its first mow under new ownership, pushing the mower along the hedge by the neighbor's garage. Jeep in the driveway, hostas around the front steps, house number 19 on the arched door.