Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Marco - 12. Chapter 12
There was one job to do. I needed to get water into the kitchen. The pump at the sink used water from the well. The drain from the sink went to a septic tank and field. I wasn’t sure if I needed to prime that pump as well. I tried the pump, and nothing came out. So I decided to prime it. I went to the well outside. Using one of the porcelain buckets, I got a bucket of water. It took two buckets to get that pump primed and working.
I had the testing results we did on the well, so I knew the water was safe to drink.
I had the shower water drain to the septic field and the bathroom water from the sink and commode connected to the new sewer line.
I liked the idea of the wood cooking stove, so I kept that. The old fashion icebox I moved to the room with the other appliances. I had installed the electric refrigerator in that space.
I notified Mom and Dad I was planning on moving in for Thanksgiving. The house would still need work. I still needed to convert the chandeliers to electricity. I was able to provide electric table lamps in the dining and living rooms.
The week before Thanksgiving, Mom and Dad drove over. Mom had to make sure the house was ready for me to move. There was a discussion about the wood cooking stove. I didn’t want to change it, I thought it would do for me, and the heat from the stove would heat the room.
Mom went and bought an electric cooking unit that provided two burners for cooking and a small oven. I thanked her, “This isn’t necessary, Mom.”
“In the summer, the wood stove will make this room too hot. You can use this electric unit for cooking.” I didn’t argue.
I had a set of keys for the new locks that Jake installed. I saw the gleam in Mom’s eyes when I handed a set of keys to Dad. “Keep these, Dad. If you and Mom come over and I’m at work, you can enter the house,” I knew this week while I was at work, Mom would be in that house every day.
On Thanksgiving Day, we had our first dinner in the house. Mom had cooked the dinner at the apartment, and Dad conveyed it over to the house. Mom used her electric cooking unit to heat the food. I wanted to use the woodstove, and she said no. When you are used to saying yes to your mother and not no, you keep doing what you have been conditioned to do.
Thanksgiving meal in the house had a significant impact on me. I realized that all of my past problems would not affect me anymore. I gave thanks for having Tony and the lessons he taught me. And for having Karl in my life as a good friend. I gave thanks for having the time to grow up emotionally, and I gave thanks for my rocks, Mom and Dad. They have accepted me for who I am.
“Mom, Dad, what do you think about sleeping here tonight?”
“I’m not sure the bedrooms are available, Marco.”
“The beds have clean linen, and I brought over the quilts you have repaired and cleaned. This weekend, I plan on living here.”
I watched as Dad looked at Mom. If I would bet, Dad was a yes, and Mom was a question mark. “Marco, there isn’t a bathroom upstairs.”
Laughing, “I’ll put one of those ceramic pots in your room. You can pretend you are one of those people who lived here hundreds of years ago.”
I laughed as she reached to hit me. We did stay the night but returned to the apartment in the morning.
Friday and Saturday, I slowly moved to the house. I had made arrangements with the landlord to keep the apartment until he found a renter. When I told Mom and Dad, I was surprised when Dad said he would take the apartment.
“Dad, you don’t need an apartment. You can stay with me when you and Mom come to see me.”
“Marco, I’ve decided to retire. I would have retired earlier only I wanted to wait until I saw that you were settled. I think with you buying that house I can consider you settled. I’ll sell the house, and we can move here.”
I smiled. That would be perfect.
On Monday, Dad went home. Mom stayed to help me move. She had to decided what furniture she wanted, hers or mine. I told her what she didn’t want, we would sell.
By the end of January, Dad had sold the house, and the furniture they wanted was delivered to the apartment. They donated my furniture that they didn’t want to the church with the proviso to give the furniture to anyone who needed it.
Sunday dinners were at the apartment. No way was Mom going to use that wood stove. Work was going well, and I was offered a job back at headquarters. I turned it down, I was home, and I didn’t want to leave. They were surprised, and on one of my boss’s trips, I invited him to dinner at my home. When he left to return home, he smiled, “Marco, I wouldn’t want to leave either.” That was the end of any offer for a move.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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