Childhood house leaves long-lasting impression
The first time I walked into the house my husband and I would buy here in Columbus, I thought it was the prettiest place I’d seen since my childhood home in Dayton.
In fact, the two-stories share so many characteristics, it’s almost uncanny.
Both built in the early 1900s, they have red-brick exteriors and wide front porches, high ceilings and architectural details that include French doors to the dining and living rooms. Those living rooms run the entire length of the first floors, and both homes feature upstairs and downstairs layouts based around central halls.
Even the window placement and wood used in the flooring seem to echo each other.
My husband, who’s seen photos of my old home, says he knew immediately that I’d want the Clintonville house, even though it cost more than we’d planned to spend.
If the Dayton house — which is larger by 509 square feet and has one more bedroom — were in Clintonville, we couldn’t have afforded it.
The urban neighborhoods around both homes have similarly named streets and similarly sized lots and trees, but their property values tell far different stories.
The Zillow real-estate website estimates that my childhood home would sell for one-twelfth the price of my Columbus home.
I haven’t been back to the old neighborhood in years.
My family sold the home when I was a freshman in high school — in 1993, amid a different drug epidemic.
Crack hit that area of Dayton hard. The Christmas Eve before we moved, a group on a weeklong binge killed a kid for his sneakers on the end of our block.
Still, I didn’t want to leave. My best friend lived two doors away, and all my best experiences had happened in that home.
I still have fond memories of jumping from couch to love seat to cushion thrown on the red carpet-turned“lava,” as my brother and I attempted “lifethreatening” adventures a la Indiana Jones.
But kids don’t have the same concerns about safety that their parents do.
For me, this summer reinforced how our homes play into our adult need for security.
My husband lost his graphic-design job in June after a big client left the marketing firm where he freelanced. He struggled to find jobs he wanted at a salary he wanted.
At the same time, property values in our neighborhood have soared. Homes have sold in a matter of days, not weeks.
That gave me confidence that we could sell the house I love before we would ever run out of money to pay our bills, if it came to that.
It didn’t — not even close. My husband has been offered a great job at Ohio State University.
But I still feel lucky and grateful that the home we picked mostly for sentimental reasons affords us the financial flexibility to weather hardships.
I love that I could have followed my parents’ example and sold the home for the good of our family, just as much as I love the French doors and front porch.