On Monday we were no longer at the House. In truth, it was midnight Tuesday before we cleared the last of our stuff out and finished cleaning, the people following us giving us the time we needed. We actually started staying at the apartment Saturday night, and are adjusting to (much) smaller quarters.
Monday evening I found myself alone in the House, Leah and the others had gone down to her parents for her little sisters birthday celebration. I was taking a bit of a break, sitting in the darkened client’s Dining Room, when I started looking around, admiring the details of the House’s finish, and thinking about the good memories.
I got up, and wandered throughout the House, starting at the attic, touching walls, trim, window sills and what not. I was trying to soak up the essence of it all, the tactile memory of the place. I went to every room, every nook, of the near empty building. And it was good.
At the end of my tour I returned to the stairs and sat on them in the dark, remembering the times that I’d come back to the House after supper to find Gary sitting on the stairs, silently, in the dark House, watching the moon through the windows of the Great Room. I couldn’t see the moon now, it was low on the southern horizon out of view from the East facing room. But I had already been outside admiring it, a thin crescent, orange in the sky just above the hills, and it was easy to sit back in the silence and contemplate all that happened there.
The loss of the House, emotionally, has been surprisingly easy for the most part. Probably that has much to do with how long the process has taken, how long this has hung over our head. Not that it has been without its stresses and dangers, there are many times they’ve bubbled to the surface of our family, our patience shorter and tempers quicker than they should be.
For me, the most emotional moment happened last week. Travis has taken to playing with our MacBook, having discovered the remote for it, listening to music mostly. I came in and laid down beside him as he was on our bed with the laptop. He had started a slide show from one of the photo folders, one of pictures taken during construction. As I sat there, watching the transformation from empty lot, to piling, to a floor and on and on, I cried, memories washing over me.
That done, I dried my eyes, hugged my son and went back to the boxes. There was still plenty of work to be done.
There still is.
House Construction med from Clare Kines on Vimeo.
Comments
19 responses
*sniff*
the house will miss you
I’m so sorry to hear this. Even though the tide turned, I think you can be very proud of the fact that you built a beautiful house and filled it with so much love, good cooking, entertainment, hospitality and commitment. Despite the outcome, it was a job very well done.
Best wishes.
I must have been quite remiss in coming over to your blog, just now learning about your departure from The House. Sorry to hear this. Houses are like living creatures. They have their personality, and we get very attached, because of that, and of all the memories they hold. I think of some houses I have lived in, like I think of long lost friends at times. But, mostly, they are in us, they have deposited their sediments in us, and we carry them around. All this as a clumsy way to wish you good luck with what the future holds for you and your loved ones.
In my mind The House has always been, and will remain, synonymous with Arctic Bay. While things didn’t work out as planned I have to say I am full of admiration of your efforts.
I’m sorry to hear about the house, I always came to my computer to see what was going on in a place I can only dream of. Best of luck to you and God Speed. I will keep reading.
Staying with you at the house has provided some very special memories (not to mention the wonderful food and coffe). Coming to Arctic Bay will never be quite the same. You will be missed.
????
What?
What is happening up at Arctic Bay, did i miss something important (obviously)?
It is very moving to watch the house being built, such a beautiful labor of love. So very sad that this era has come to a close for you and your family. I can only hope the space it leaves in your hearts will be filled by new and grand dreams.
Same ??? here as Jochen,
What happened with the house, sad to hear, so much house-building stories in your blog.
Arviat
I’m glad I’m not the only one that is confused!! 🙁
Sorry to hear!
Kia ora Clare,
Kia kaha. May the the love and honour you gave to this beautiful place remain within you.
Cheers,
Robb
Thanks Michael. Its all okay.
and I it, Indigo.
Thanks Tuesy. I do take comfort that despite being a poor business man I was a good host, and built an incredible place.
Thanks aufilsdutemp. It was a very positive experience, despite the business part of it.
Thanks Darcy. It has definitely changed the skyline here.
fox, thank you. I’ll keep writing, although I’ve slowed down lately because of everything going on. I may have to rename the blog now though 🙂
Thank you Lesleigh. It was great having you stay here. Hopefully the new owners will continue good food, coffee and have it as a welcoming place.
Hi Jochen, it all depends on the definition of important I suppose. We lost the House to our mortgagor. Here is another blog post about it…
http://kiggavik.typepad.com/the_house_other_arctic_mu/2009/10/and-so-it-goes.html
Thanks robin andrea. Life continues and we’ll do just fine. On to the next stage in our lives.
Hi Eric. As I wrote above, we lost the House to our mortgagor. Hello to everyone in Arviat
Thanks Megan.
Hey Robb, Thank you. Enjoyed your Thanksgiving post.
Sorry about that Clare. I hope it all works out for you and your family. Best Regards.
Thank you Nick.
Verdammte Scheisse! (Yeah, flag me, anyone, but it was appropriate in this case!)
All the very best, this is a sad day for sure and I am truly sorry. I trust though that you’ll keep on blogging. Look up, there is surely a Raven somewhere…
So ein Scheiß!!
So sorry to hear about losing the house. You ran the best B&B in Nunavut, and I told my fellow transients about it every chance I got.
Clare – This summer, a few days before I left our farm for the last time, I remember wondering how it would feel. Maybe it was the rushing to get the last of my stuff into storage, or perhaps it was because I worked hard to get it ready to sell — I’m not sure why — but it wasn’t that hard to walk away. Leaving the farm seemed to symbolize the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. I hope that you’re feeling a little of that too. One thing I did do was to walk around my place with the camera recording video – through the house, the garden, the studio/garage building, and the barn. I just wanted to be able to see it again if I ever felt inclined.
Ha Ha Jochen. I was pretty sure I figured those phrases on my own but had them translated just in case. I’ll keep blogging. Haven’t figured out how to stop yet, and I’ve tried.
Thanks Nancy. One of the nice things is how well the place was thought of by those who stayed there.
I am feeling a little about that. We were resigned for sometime that one way or another we’d be leaving. We had hoped that our buyer would have come through in time, but that didn’t happen. I should have recorded it with video. I do have a tour during the construction. Perhaps I’ll post that.