Our First Supper

I drive the van into our driveway. Our driveway, not the rental driveway. Press the button to open the garage door. It's been re-adjusted and lubricated so it doesn't make any noise. Nice.  Before I open my car door I pause and say, " Boys, some day our house will be fixed and we will pull into this driveway and this will be our home again. I can't wait!" They smile. I step out of the car, walk to the back and pull out my basket of dirty dishes. Sounds of pounding hammers and birds (bird, yay!) have replaced chirping fire alarms. Progress."Careful, boys we got more snow and the driveway is icy." Unbuckle L and he opens the back door to the house for me. "Thanks, Bud." I load the dishwasher. L puts in the soap cube, closes the little dishwasher door, closes the big dishwasher door and presses the buttons to turn it on. Fist bump. "Nice work, Buddy." We head downstairs. Carpet, walls, boarded windows, empty shelves, art work gone, tv wires dangle, tv gone. I unfold the treadmill and turn it on. "This thing's making a funny noise that it didn't make before the storm or BS as I jokingly think to myself. "Did glass get inside this? Should we claim it," are my thoughts. The boys play and fight and play while I walk. No TV. "Should we just get rid of TV in the basement after we move in," I think.

Supper time approaches. Time to throw in a pizza for the guys and cook a frozen meal for myself. We (and by we I mean, I..wink, wink) better test out the oven and microwave. If they don't work we need to get them fixed or replaced...D's running late, so I pull the oven away from the wall by myself. "Take it easy. This isn't worth throwing my back out over," I think to myself. "Man the oven plug in is gigantic!! Should I really be doing this when D's not here?? Say a prayer. Lord let me be safe while I plug this thing in....Press it in, the oven beeps. Yes!"  I press the "bake" button, then the up arrow key until I reach the desired temp. The oven beeps at me and says it'll be six minutes before it's heated up. Man, this oven is so smart. What a luxury! (Heating up the gas oven at our rental is guess work. It works, but it's guess work). I pull the frozen pizza, pizza pan and sheet of aluminum outta my bag to get things going. I pull open my silverware drawer out of habit and reach for a knife to pierce the plastic packaging. No silverware. Oops. My hands will do. The oven beeps to let me know it's warmed, I open the door and find crumbs and crud on the bottom of the stove that's probably four or more months old. Eww! "Wonder if there's glass inside the oven??? Should I really be using this thing?" Slide the pizza in and let 'er cook. The next order of business is to clean this place up! My counters have turned into a workshop. Twenty some paint color swatches strewn about. Screws, washers, shop vac parts, tile, nails sitting about...oh and dust so thick you'd never believe it. "You know what, this isn't a garage or a workshop," I think to myself. "This is my kitchen. I don't want my counter tops to get dinged up or scratched. I'm gonna clean this up to look for dings and dents but I'm also going to clean it up so we can eat here tonight," I decide.

I look under the sink to find a bottle of spray soap that's got about 1/4 cup of fluid in. Across the room is a box of shop towels sturdy enough to do the job. I use my mini broom and mini dust pan to sweep the dry wall chunks and dust off and into the garbage. Then give it a good wash with what towels and soap I have. With my back turned to the plywood floors and boarded windows and tools in the living room this place feels like home. With my face towards my two new kitchen windows, working oven and microwave this place feels like home. The can lights are shining bright, the dishwasher is humming along. Awww! This feels like home. I shut my eyes and breathe it in, holding back tears of joy.
"Beeeeeep." Pizza's done. I open the door to pull it out, no pot holders. Oops! D is here by now so he offers up three shop gloves for my hands and two small pieces of 2X2 for the counter top hot pads. Nice. It works in a pinch. Now for seating...Hmmm.. One semi-sturdy dining room chair won't due for four people. "I know, let's bring in the wicker couch from the front porch." The boys wipe it down. We pull the wicker couch up to the plastic folding table and we are in business.  Frozen pizza, a frozen meal for me, leftover restaurant napkins, Red Cross bottled water...Dinner is served. We sit. We eat. We talk and laugh. I am reminded of the sign that used to hang over our kitchen table. "Having a place to go is home, having someone to love is family, having both is a blessing."  Awww, this is so wonderful. I looong to be home. I savor this moment. I wish I had my camera to capture the scene. Instead I absorb the image and let it sink into my memory. Some day we'll be back in this house with carpet, windows, wood floors, new paint. We will look back and remember the moment when we improvised and made frozen pizza, handled it with shop gloves and 2x2's and sat on a wicker couch. At the end of the meal, there was a moment when everyone was quiet.  L broke the silence when he looked up, pointed his fingers into the air, raised his eye brows, opened his big blue eyes and said, "Mom, this is our first supper back in our house!!"