Beneath one roof

My parents moved into their house in June of 1968. It was a four-bedroom ranch with a full basement — Dad liked that it had a steel beam that supported the second floor. He believed in strength over flash. And it’s safe to say that he made a good choice — nearly five decades later, it is still solid as a rock.

Dave and Virginia Ramsey lived their lives, raised three children in that house and buried numerous pets in the backyard. When talk came of moving, they’d build on (they did in 1976 and then again in the late 90’s). It was well over 3,500 sq. ft — big for that time.

Soon it will be put on the market and sold. As I walk through it for the last times, I look around and hear the whispers of ghosts and memories. There are marks on the doorframe that show my growth. Each room tells its own story. There’s the fireplace where I cracked my head open as a child (explains a lot, you know). Footprints in the concrete mark the size of my sisters’ and my feet in 1976. First dates. Christmases. Birthdays. Celebrations. Arguments.

There were many happy moments there. And many not-so-happy moments. Living in that house shaped who I am — for better and for worse. It was my home for a long, long time (I have now lived in my home here longer). My sisters and I have cleared out the things that accumulated over a lifetime. But that really wasn’t my parents’ legacy after all. (Sometimes I think my mom thought it was.) No, their legacy wasn’t stuff that can be sold for pennies on the dollar at an estate sale — it is their three children. That fact has helped me redefine how I view my own life and family.

Soon, my sisters and I will no longer have a house that connects us. But we have a common bond that is so much stronger. We have lives forged by genetics and a shared experience under one roof.

I hope whomever buys the house has an equally amazing run as my parents did. It should serve them well.

About Marshall Ramsey