a house becomes a home

it's kind of nuts, some days.

i've been riding the emotional rollercoaster for months now and have joked about how i have zero control over my emotions these days - like i don't even try to control it any more and i have come to accept that on occasion i will spontaneously combust, usually at the most inconvenient times. like at work, or while driving down the street, or while talking to an acquaintance. as i have said before, the time when i feel like i should or would break down, when i am with my nearest and dearest, i usually don't. instead i feel a surge of strength or stability or something. i've come to accept this.

i have pretty much always been close to my one and only brother, paul,

except for those few pre-teen years when he teased me unmercifully and i thought he was wicked (and not in a good way). of course if we didn't have those years, i'd find our relationship too stepford-like - but those memories add just the right amount of normal to our history.

arriving on the planet a full two years ahead of me, he really has grown to be the perfect big brother in so many ways. he shoulders a lot, has built a beautiful, model family, and is always without fail there for me. he's always there for everyone, though - not just me. but i know i have a special place as his "little sister". and so his was one of the very first phone calls that i made on christmas morning. i knew my parents were on their way to his house to celebrate the holiday, and i wanted paul to be able to break our news to them as gently as possible. i was afraid that i'd break down as soon as i heard my parents' voices, and that would worry them, and leave them feeling fairly helpless at 1500 miles away.

and so i called my big brother.

it was early, 9am maybe? the smoke was still rising - but they were already up probably hard at work in their kitchen making some amazing tapas and his awesome focaccia like they often do for their guests. i think i asked paul to get my sister in law chris on the phone too. and once i had them both, i started to tell them what had happened - that we were ok, that the house was gone.

we talked about how best to tell my folks - we would wait until they arrived at his house. there was no point in calling them on their cell phone while they were in transit - i was worried that the shock would be too stressful. then he reminded me that "they only turn on their cell phone when they need to call someone" anyway :-) once they arrived at his house, he'd sit them down and tell them that - first and foremost - the four of us were ok, and then the details. we had a plan, and then i would call them later once the dust had settled and i felt more in control of my emotions.

of course our plan fell to pieces as we were standing outside mo and ronnie's at about 11am and my cell phone rang. caller ID told me it was my parents. wow, that was fast. my dad sounded surprised at the sound of my voice. but wait, i said, you called me so how can you be surprised it's me? he told me that he was trying to call my brother, to let them know that he and my mom were running late. somehow he had dialed me instead. knowing they were en route, i quickly debated - do i tell them? or let them get to my brother's house first? i've never been anything but an open book so it took about a nanosecond before i was telling my dad everything. and then my mom got on the phone. i held it together as i shared it all with them.

in the days and weeks after the fire we had many heart to hearts with my brother and sister in law. one january day, jack and i arrived home at the same time and walked in to our rental house together. we were stunned momentarily by what we saw. there, displayed across the kitchen table, were a dozen beautifully framed photos of our family - all ages, all stages. we both wept. we embraced.

aly was there and had unpacked the box when it arrived. she was responsible for the display, which was simultaneously overwhelmingly gut wrenching and amazingly heart warming. a big box had arrived from my brother's family. in it, a photo collection of our lives, delicately and thoughtfully framed and ready for us. photos i had assumed were gone forever. there were more than the framed photos too - generous gift cards for each of the four of us, sweet heartfelt notes, and a lifetime's worth of other photos and videos on CD and DVD. everything paul and chris could pull together, they did.

it's funny how you don't necessarily know the things people notice about your home. when i called to thank them, chris said that she had been thinking of our house and how we always have had a multitude of family photos on the walls - which was really true because i always felt my kids got jipped by living so far away from their extended families. i just never knew anyone noticed. we always made sure to capture moments, vacations, holidays - to have photos of so many cherished family members all around us. after all, 2D is better than no-D.

chris and paul not only knew how devastating the loss of our photos would be for us, but took the time to sift through their own collection and try to recreate ours. in an instant, that one box they sent had transformed a little, temporary rental house into our home.

i had been feeling so uncomfortable in the rental house. this was not my house. these were not my things. i was living with a stranger. and once i had familiar photos to spread around, my perspective seemed to change. instead of feeling like "these are not my things", i saw a kitchen table from rick and theresa, dishes from cathy and dave, a sofa from lori, a fridge from the danielsons, and so much more - the house and its contents became a composite of the goodwill we had received from all of the people who had reached out to us.

and in a moment, a house became a home.