Here Is No Why : So Long, Not Goodnight

"This Is The House That Jack Built" has been stuck in my head for the past few weeks. Ever since I actively started house-hunting. You know the rhyme, right?  You can read it at
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/This_Is_the_House_That_Jack_Built

As mentioned in Wikipedia, the rhyme is a cumulative tale that doesn't tell the story of Jack (who builds the house), but instead shows how the house is indirectly linked to numerous things and people. Which is how I feel about Old House. As I move through the rooms of the only house I've ever really called 'home', a limerick plays in my head, not unlike that of of the nursery rhyme. 

For Old House ~ thank you for the memories:

This is the house we call Old House.

This is the room, which I called my own that’s now a study to write,

This is the corner where I sat and cried whenever I heard a fight,

Both North in the house we call Old House. 

This is the room where giggling girls,

Got ready for parties, with makeup and curls,

Whispers of crushes, of heartache and dreams,

Sleepover secrets shared later at night, in a room of the house we call Old House.

This is the room that was for three boys, 

Who dragged mud on the floors when back from school sports,

Who pulled at my hair and played tricks of sorts,

My brothers who grew up with me in the house we call Old House.

This is the floor where at 4 every evening,

A ray of sun would shine on her that lay sleeping,

Basking in sunlight, little sister would nap,

On the wooden boards that still cover the floor of the house we call Old House. 

This is the kitchen, that fed more than seven,

Two grownups, 3 boys, 2 girls and their cousins,

This is the sofa which hosted the family, to watch football on TV,

Slanted but comfy, in the centre of the house we call Old House.

This is the yard which housed geese and ducks,

Where children saw faeries running with rabbits,

Where children climbed trees and sometimes got stuck,

Where roses and sunflowers bloomed for the house we call Old House.

This is the table where many have sat,

Cards changing hands, truth-or-dare bets,

Laughter resounding in the walls all around,

Of the rooms in the house we call Old House.

This is the place where stories were told,

This is the place where secrets will hold,

This is the place of laughter and tears,

Over the rainbow, 2nd star from the right, is the house we call Old House, or Home.

Old House's History: Built in the 1960s by my late maternal Grandpa, Old House was where Mum, her 4 sisters and 2 brothers grew up. In the 80s, all of Mum's siblings migrated overseas (one to UK, the rest to USA) and Mum and Dad bought the house from Grandpa and Gran. They used the money from the house to migrate to the USA too. We were living in Kapit (little out-back town East of Sarawak) then, where my folks were stationed (gov't officers of education yo!).  In 1988 they transferred back to Kuching, and we moved in.

Why Old House is Old House:  In the 1980s, my family moved a lot. A LOT. According to my parents, every time we moved I'd want to go 'home' ~ not realising that 'home' was a government house commissioned to the (current) officer on duty. By the time we moved to Kapit I was 7, and when we moved out I was 9. Old enough to be impressionable by the act of leaving (most of the time without a proper goodbye espc. since I was never told we were leaving for good!) and of changing schools. So I joined a new school (again) at 10 and went through the motions of change. High school, college blabla… you know the drill. For the first time in my life, we didn't move.

Annnyywaayy... so I leave Old House in early 2000 for Final Year, grad late 2000 only to come home to... hello! W.T.F on so many levels, my folks have bought and moved into New House (of course it's not new now, but we still call it that heh). Which is when Old House started being called Old House instead of Home. ie "I'll be at Old House" instead of "I'll be at home".

2 months after grad I started work at a Holiday Inn Resort 45-minutes (drive) out of the city. They gave me a room to board and everything (evillee establishment method of keeping your nose in the grindstone) so the only time I got to hang with the fam was the odd weekend. Which is why New House never quite grew on me as Home. In 2003 I moved back to the city but living with the folks after being on your own for nearly 4 years just doesn't cut it ~ ya dig? Rather than see me slum it out as a 2nd rate border, my parents then offered me Old House to live in (if you must live alone, live where we know you're safe). So I did.

Bear in mind that Old House has a yard the size of... well let's just put it this way: We used to keep rabbits, ducks, geese, chickens + shiteloads of mango trees and a couple of rambutan trees as well! So from 2001 - 2004 the house was practically empty.  Growing. Germinating. Breeding. The yard I mean. Yes, I moved into a jungle.  Fix up the yard? I tried!! but there's only so much you can do on your own. And every time the boys came over it'd end with a bbq. My brothers were busy working / being dads, and my sis was in college.. So I moved in, cleared the driveway, fixed up the inside of the house, and have been living here ever since.

It's nice. At least to me. But now the wooden floors are sinking with dry rot and termites, the ceiling creeks suspiciously and the partition walls which aren't made of bricks actually seem to bleed (damp infestation). So I'm being forced to move. An estimate for a fix-up was deemed by every other Architect and Engineer, as ridiculous ie. it'd cost more to fix it up than to rip it down and build a new house. *sigh* So that's the plan. Old House will one day be New -Old -House. 

Besides immediate family of three generations (am including my brother's and cousin's kids), countless of uncles, aunts, cousins and friends, have over the years, lived in Old House. This house is legendary. Ooo if walls could talk, I'd be very rich (or very poor! haH!)... yes, Old House will be missed.

After looking high and low, I've found myself a new home. Signed a one-year lease and all ~ after a year, who knows what the winds of change will blow my way?  I think I'll be happy there. I hope I'll be. I know I won't be happy in the same way as I ever was in Old House, but I'm hoping for a different kind of happy. Old House has kept me safe for the past 22 years and I like to think that its sudden deterioration (if was fine last year) is its way of telling me to move out and move on. Am I still heart-broken? Well yes, a little. But I've come to realise that as long as we (me, my family and friends) remember Old House, it'll always be there to provide shelter when needed, in a place somewhere over the rainbow where happy pigs fly and flowers smile.