Now *THIS* Is a House With Great Bones
Leah and I went for a tour of Matt and Heather’s new house. What we saw was the definition of home.
ST. ALBERT — I can see my breath in the moonlight as we step out of the car and onto Matt and Heather’s driveway. It’s five days before Christmas, and while northern Alberta has been unseasonably warm for most of Leah and I’s trip back, the evening lows have hovered around freezing. In other words, cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but not so cold as to spark any lasting Yuletide spirit.
Matt and Heather bought this place back in July: a suburban bungalow on a quiet street, 10 minutes from where most of our friend group went to high school.
“It’s pretty old,” says Matt as we walk towards the garage “I think it was built in the 70s.”
He opens the garage door and flicks the lights, revealing the couple’s workshop. The small kiln that Heather uses to fire pottery, and, further back, boxes of yarn and the frame that Matt uses to tuft his handmade rugs.
From where I’m standing I can see it’s loaded with an unfinished piece. Two faces — one scowling, one smiling — stare back at me, above the word POO, written in hot pink.
To the side, I notice some home maintenance equipment. Ladder, large snow blower, all-weather tires. On our drive over, Heather mentioned they’ve spent pretty much every weekend since they moved in doing renos. Last summer they even dug a trench to get power and gas lines into the garage.
Power and gas. Kiln and frame. The little details that make a house a home.
We exit the garage and follow a side door up a flight of stairs to the main living area. The walls of the house are covered in Matt’s art. Line drawings of bug-eyed ghouls with long noses and round stomachs, lovingly framed. For the past couple of years, he’s been teaching art at one of the junior high schools in St. Albert. On the fridge, there’s a photo of him from picture day, smiling.
In the living room, there is a full plastic skeleton, also smiling, holding a tall plant.
They take us down into the basement, past an extra bedroom with a Dragon Ball Z sticker on the door, and a small den with a chandelier over the TV. In the laundry room, Matt mentions that one of his old students has been getting into metal. He thought about getting him a Slayer CD for graduation.
“I thought it might be inappropriate,” he says “It’s pretty satanic. I gave him a Gojira one instead.”
Little details.
We walk back upstairs to put on our shoes. It’s after 10 pm and while tomorrow is a literal school day, Heather also has work, so Matt offers to drive us. We hug her and say we’ll be back soon. Or see them at the wedding. Whichever comes first.
It would be nice if everyone I love could live in the same place. For now, seeing them happy is enough.
The three of us load back into the Saturn and Matt begins to drive. Past the schools and churches of my youth towards the county and the coyotes nestled in their dens.
