By Michele Wallach
"Wow, the yard is huge," I said as we listed the pros and cons.
"But this isn't exactly a white picket fence," my husband countered as he gestured at the 6-foot-tall, rotten stockade fence. I nodded in agreement. "We'll put up a new one before we move," Jon said.
I patted my swollen belly and imagined the potential of the weed-strewn yard, with its rusty pool and splintered deck. Then I walked the length of the driveway, uneven blacktop with tufts of crabgrass growing in its multitude of cracks. It was a long driveway, long enough for a slide and a sandbox, a tricycle and toy trains, a basketball hoop and a baby pool. At seven months pregnant with our first child, my ponderings were leading me far into the future.
I joined Jon and the real estate agent in their discussion about taxes as they headed indoors. We crossed the threshold into the kitchen, and I nodded in agreement until my eyes fell on the dishwasher. "Does that work?" I interrupted. My interest in the STAR program diminished as I thought of the hours I'd spent forfeiting manicures to soapy bubbles and greasy frying pans.
The three and a half of us entered the tiny downstairs bathroom, about to experience a letdown after the joyous discovery of the dishwasher. I couldn't help but notice the moldy shower stall and the grime-encrusted linoleum floor. Jon read my expression and responded, "We'll fix it up before we move in."
"We better," I said with a glance at the dusty light fixture.
We moved upstairs, where my daydreams took the furniture from our baby registry and arranged it down to the last detail. Delighted that the baby's room was bright and airy, I made a mental note that we would need more curtains.
Then I stood in the master bedroom worrying about how our dog, with her skittish disposition, would adjust to the move, while Jon climbed the rickety ladder to the attic. "Can we put a doggie door in for Sammi?" I called up to him.
"Sure, before we move," he answered while knocking on beams and poking insulation. I imagined our black lab/chow mix bounding in from the yard for a gulp of water.
We asked the necessary questions about the roof and the windows and then headed for the front door. Passing through the foyer, we smirked at the golf theme. Turquoise and yellow plaid wallpaper adorned the walls, and tiny golfers played eighteen holes along the border. We stifled laughs. I muttered, "That has to go before we move," to which Jon suggested we simply take up golf.
Our offer was accepted, but of course we were overwhelmed, like any first-time homeowners. Our savings went to things like a water heater and a chimney liner rather than the aesthetic improvements we had anticipated. Sammi's doggie door was installed during the two weeks we owned the home before moving in, but she's nervous by nature, and in the nearly two years we've lived here, she has yet to use it. The golf wallpaper has been removed, though we still affectionately call the foyer the "golf room." We tolerated the downstairs bathroom for a full year before renovating it ourselves.
We still consider our home in Valley Stream a work in progress. Our to-do list looms large with many of the jobs we vowed to do before we moved, but with a little more work and a lot more money, we're confident that our house can be our masterpiece. The blacktop on the driveway remains uneven, and since weed killer can be harmful to dogs, Jon simply mows the crabgrass that grows throughout its web of cracks. A slide and a sandbox, a tricycle and toy trains, a basketball hoop and a baby pool, however, decorate our yard.
Michelle Wallach moved to Valley Stream in June 2004. In addition to teaching junior high school English and creative writing in Brooklyn, she teaches "Introduction to Memoir Writing," for the Valley Stream Adult School.
