manor

there are lots of things in my life that i have lost. innocense, life, loved ones, dogs, keys, clothes, parking spaces etc. but there haven't really been too many things, aside from loved ones that i think i will miss more than the manor

this place has been a home to me for more than a year now, and its been a year of profound growth, sadness, joy, improvement and friendships. i can honestly say, save for the home i no longer have with my family, there's not a 'home' that i will miss more after we're all out of this wonderful old house.

darren running around with a chair and wine bottle. sycz racking up 261 points playing madden in the basement. jesse asking me how he looks in his silly old courduroy suit jacket. dan bush moving to virginia, maust and the kids splitting for the ghetto, creapy jeans spilling and breaking everything. willett being the man with the bogey friends, wyatt sleeping in the basement and being an angel. nate rose making the big bucks and sleeping in our house. tyson, all of his rich stuff in the basement and those dipshits with the pizza trash and terrible taste in everything. billy with his intoxicated motor cycle hijinx. matt miller and his wandering awkwardness. and me, the man with everything to lose.

i could fill an entire blog with old memories, conversations, stories, porch time, broken coffee cups, trampoline tricks, grandpa jesse, crazy darren, dead mike and all the rest, but it would never measure up to the space in my heart and soul for this time spent with these guys. in a lot of ways they have been everything i've got in this whole world for the last year and half, and there's no way to convey that in words.

we're still here though. sitting on the porch, hogging the computer, drinking the coffee, making large messes, listening to the music loud enough to hear down the block, staying up too late, never really doing anything and everything all at the same time. and that's the point. we are us. that's it. and we will always be here in this house. longer lasting than the '36 handprint on the back porch, more colorful than the pastel paint, richer than the wood detailing in the whisky room and longer lasting than that musty old ghost that glides through the upstairs hall at night. he history, old news. the manor boys are here to stay. even when we've gone...

somehow i think my grandpa would have hung out with us here too..

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