The day of the fire, my mom, dad, sister, and I went back through the house again. We took some pictures and we grabbed a few things. It was somber.
My sister made the comment that while walking through all the debris and what was left of the house, everywhere she looked, she saw my dad’s handiwork.
It was true.
My parents have been in their home for 32 years, and they have made several home improvements. My dad has made them all.
He tore down our teeny one-car garage and made a three-car garage and work space that would make any neighbor jealous.
He designed and constructed a two-story club house for us as children, complete with bubble windows, a fireman’s pole, a slide, and a sandbox.
He painted that dang house blue, then finally realized that houses should not be blue and put up vinyl siding.
He built an amazing deck for outside living space and entertainment.
He installed a new roof.
He finished the basement and added a family room, an office, a bedroom with a walk-in closet, and a bathroom.
He tiled the kitchen floor and painstakingly designed a tile back splash as well.
His most impressive project was a sun-room addition. It was a room that everyone loved to be in. With sliding glass windows on three sides and an impressive gabled peak full of windows. You felt as if you were outside, except that you could enjoying air-conditioning and a pleasant lack of insects.
So, even though the house can be rebuilt, it feels like such a loss that it will not have all the personal touches throughout.