By: Barbra Sue Yurachek

PROMPT: WHAT ABOUT BEING A CHILD DO YOU MISS THE MOST?

Why am I afraid of water? I’ve never drowned obviously. But I have fought water problems most of my life. From the Buffalo ditch floods in Arkansas in 1952, to years of trying to avoid a flooded basement in Illinois, feeling helpless with torrential down pours in the springtime. For many many years water spelled expense and trouble in my world.

In 1970 my husband and I bought an old house in Evergreen Park, Illinois. It was in bad shape but I wanted that house with all my heart and nothing else interested me. My husband, on the other hand, knew we were in for a lot of work, but we were young and healthy and I really wanted to live there. He believed the old adage “Happy wife, happy life” and we agreed to buy the old house I loved. We moved in two weeks before Halloween.

November was on the cold side that year and our furnace wasn’t as young as we were and kept breaking down. We had oil heat. And that was one of the first years oil prices went through the roof, gas prices were almost as bad, but not quite. To make matters worse, the original doors and windows were totally useless. Wind whistled through like the blizzard of ‘67. Had we made a huge mistake?!  That never crossed our minds. We would just weather the winter and repair the house when we could. I was still in love with the house and my husband loved the lot and the neighbors. Our children had made fast friends and loved their school. We all loved where we were, and never wanted to move.

There were only two huge problems: the house was extremely small and cramped, AND OH, we had no money. Repairs came slow. We were very lucky to find very honest and caring repair people. We found a way to budget my college education—my husband worked a variety of part-time jobs—I knew I had to finish the 3 years I lacked on my degree in two because our son was graduating high school. His father and I knew I had to get a job so Tom, too, could get an education. We were still very happy with our neighborhood, and we made do with the lack of space but some repairs would not wait.

During those years the huge mature maples in our oversized backyard had spread tree roots far and wide. They had invaded the plumbing system and were causing several major infrastructure problems and flooding. We had been in the house less than 6 months when the first root problem flood came. We had to replace most of the old plumbing with PVC pipe and enlarge all the drains.

That took care of our major water problems, we thought.

But whatever it took, we were going to stay in our home. We also cut one of the huge trees, and our neighbor agreed to redirect his gutters. I was teaching by then, and we were in our late 40’s. Our basement had to be patched a couple times more until we were satisfied it was waterproof. Then our roof started to leak, and of course had to be replaced. One of our first big and costly repairs was new windows all around, and a new gas furnace. Those additions made our little square house very cozy and comfortable. We bought 3 furnaces, 4 hot water heaters-one exploded and flooded our basement-had several frozen water pipes, and the furnace steam system sprung a leak once. Many malfunctioning toilet water problems caused trouble. 

As we aged, we added air conditioning, new ceilings, and a fireplace conversion. By that time our little brick cracker box was looking like the perfect little cottage in the woods, but in reality it was in a struggling South-Suburban neighborhood near Chicago which we never stopped loving. It’s houses and it’s people will always be close to my heart.

As our little home with its big yard and copious flower beds was continuing to perk up and become more important to us than ever, our bodies had had enough. My husband was developing dementia, slowly at first, then with galloping speed. Our stairs were a real problem because he also suffered arthritis of the spine. The large back yard he spent so much time in became a worry for me and a frustration for him. He could not make it to the back fence without falling.

We loved our house. We lived there 52 happy years And thought nothing would ever make us move; but when I came to the realization that safety and life preservation were at stake, I had to choose safety and health over a house. When you live as long as we did in one location, the house object almost seems alive, especially when so much emotion, time and money has been invested.

After 52 years I could not believe I was actually going to put our beloved little old house on the block. I could hardly force myself to pack up rooms that had held my children so lovingly. My husband was beyond coherence most of the time but he made himself clear during those few. days, when lucidity had not completely abandoned him.

“We can never sell our house; we will have nowhere to live.”

Feeling absolutely awful—and for the first time in 62 years, like I was betraying him and our beloved little cottage that we had all brought back to life with every nail, brick, and dab of mortar—I listed our home on the market.

I had already bought a nice one level townhouse only a few feet from our daughter’s townhouse in a gated community, about 10 miles from where we had lived 52 years of our lives.

My husband came with me, but to be honest, he never left our little house that held so many memories. He would ask me everyday, “when are we going home.”  He thought the new house belonged to the caregiver.

I like my new house. Water has only caused one frozen pipe, and a lot of very uncomfortable showers because of my unreasonable phobia. Torrential rains still come once in awhile, and I still worry about a flooded basement, which is yet to happen. My little home that I sold is no longer little but very big. The new owners have built an addition the size of the original house. It takes up most of the yard Don loved so much. He lived in the townhouse one year almost to the day. But the day after my 82nd birthday he passed away after a fall that resulted in a broken hip. He was 85 years old.

We have a great-granddaughter coming in October. Our first. Life keeps moving and without water, sunshine, and fresh air we cannot live. Houses and people come and go as much as our hearts beg them to stay. I hear heavy rain as I write. Where there is water there is life, and where there is life, anything can happen.