our house, in the middle of our street. for quite awhile now, my mom has been planning to move from our temporary home in encinitas back into our old one in del mar. originally, she had moved out of the del mar house because it was too big to live in by herself. but now, after a few years away, nostalgia has worked to pull her back in. not without a good makeover of course. i had heard that my mom was doing a remodeling of the kitchen. as it turns out, the entire house is remodeled.

starting with a fancy new shiny garage floor (a huge improvement over a concrete floored garage) and extending to every light fixture and doorknob, the entire house has been transformed. the previous tenants had already replaced the white carpet of yore, and now the entire house has gone from light wood, flowery furniture, and a bright aura to dark wood, gray flecked marble, and contemporary pieces. it's quite a change. it wasn't until i walked upstairs into the overhanging walkway did i feel at home again -- and only because the view felt the same. it's that different.

but as i explored, the house -- still hiding underneath its new mask -- revealed its familiarities bit by bit. certain doors that always jammed were tough to open. the tool drawer, like always, had to be given a good tug. my closet door still stuck to its rails and slid funny. at these moments, i understood why people always want to go visit their old houses. sure people have been there, sure everything may look different, but in the end, its still your house. and now my mom's moving back in, for good this time.

and i feel like the intervening four years were a dream, like we had never left, and nothing had ever happened. as if all i'd done in the years since moving out was washed away. it's the strangest feeling. i wish i could explain it better. anyway, the house is ready for slumber parties again. or karaoke. two events which traditionally have gone hand in hand. bring your pillows and earplugs, we're ready.