The Story Of A Home

Forty-five years ago we were looking for a new home for our family of three boys, one girl, one cat, one dog. We learned quickly that the number of rooms advertised gave us little idea of what to expect, but it was mostly five rooms in the space of the four room apartment we'd been renting, which even then felt cramped after the home we'd left behind in another life.

And then we heard about the last apartment available in a new building, on the market now because the developer had decided not to move into the one that he'd been keeping for himself. When we walked in, my husband and I were overwhelmed by a feeling of space unlike any that we'd seen so far. A truly spacious living room, lounge and dining areas delineated by a pillar. A large kitchen with a door - when most flats had open kitchens which would never do for me, irremediably disorganized when cooking. At the back, four bedrooms leading off a square hall, big enough to serve as a family den, and the whole area around a corner and completely out of view of the living area of the flat. We didn't notice the lack of a balcony, the quite ugly view of a neighboring building too close by, the cramped shower stall. But anyhow, none of these would have made us change our minds, and a few months later we moved in.

Moving day was a nightmare and moving week even worse. Our move had been delayed by technical issues, which meant that my husband had to go abroad on day two, leaving me to deal with every possible technical problem that could arise.I was a quivering wreck when he returned, but the furniture was where it was supposed to be, the laundry and kitchen were functioning, the children/dog/cat had all made themselves at home.

For many of the following years our home was always in a mess, and to this day I'm grateful for the disposition that allowed me to live in peace with scattered toys, tables left uncleared at the end of a tiring day, chaotic teenage bedrooms, unironed bed linen. My children were fed and went to school in clean clothes. It was enough. But I'll never forget the time a newly-discovered Israeli cousin popped in, without notice, to introduce another new cousin, just arrived from Australia. She thought I'd be delighted. I was horrified. It was a Friday morning and I'd been cooking and was just about to start on the weekly pre-Shabbat clear up of the utter chaos. They fled and I never heard from or saw the Australian newcomer again, but I still relive the nightmare visit!

As soon as the children had left home and our beloved pets had departed for the great kennel in the sky, we did a major refurbishment. I loved our new look and became, finally, houseproud, every item always in its place, every display tweaked to perfection. And the kitchen update remained hidden behind the door.

A few more years passed and with them the desire for another new look. Again the builders moved in and we changed things even more radically. Only the kitchen (and its door) remained unaffected. We knocked down the wall between our bedroom and the one next to it, which happened, conveniently, to be the smallest room. So now we have one super comfortable master suite, one elegant bedroom always ready for guests, and my husband's office/second spare room. We love our home, it's perfect for us, there is nothing we would change, and we would happily stay here for the foreseeable future.

But that is not the end of the story.

Along the way, our building has undergone two renovations, replacing aged gas and electricity installations, providing a smarter lobby and a beautiful garden. But nothing was done to change the basic appearance of the outside, which is now forty-five years old and looks it. Meanwhile, the buildings either side of us and opposite have undergone massive restorations, with added floors and balconies. With their completely new looks, our building is looking shabby and worn in comparison. We started to talk about joining the trend by allowing a builder to add floors and revamp the block to look modern and fresh. But for legal reasons that wasn't possible. So we agreed on the option of improving the appearance of the building and adding balconies, financing the work ourselves. Then it turned out that although the municipality had signed off on the builders' plans, there was some question as to whether the brickwork would support the balconies. Everything came to a halt.

Now the building is scheduled to be pulled down completely. Its replacement will be an impressive ten floors tall, dwarfing its neighbors and containing sixty apartments instead of the current eighteen. It will be some time before we have to move out and much more time before residents can move into their shiny new homes, but we will not be joining them. We want to make one move, to a new home where we will be happy to stay. And, to be honest, we have reservations about the whole idea of such a massive edifice replacing our modest four-storey block.

But we're sad. We're not moving by choice. We've lived here for more than half our lives and are the only people to have called this building home for its entire life. We moved in when it was brand new and will be standing outside to see it pulled down. There will no doubt be tears. We raised our children here and now happily hold many three-generation family gatherings. We have been blessed by the best neighbors anyone could wish for; house meetings at which important decisions were discussed and made, all without raised voices and without any ill feeling between us when there were disagreements. Thanks to missiles fromYemen, we have seen each other woken from sleep, in slippers and pyjamas, wrapped in blankets, with tousled hair and smudgy eyes, stroked each others' dogs for comfort and handed round chocolate treats. We will miss our community, which will no longer exist when hundreds of people live in the building instead of the current sixty or so.

No doubt we'll come to visit friends who choose to return. We'll wonder at the splendid lobby, the communal events space, the larger flats, the balconies, the ample underground parking – and then we'll leave to return to our own new home, which by then I'm sure we'll love just as much as we do the one we will soon have to leave.