He made my cry. My husband, that is. After 7 years of marriage, that man can still pull it off. He gave me one of the most thoughtful, meaningful Christmas presents I have ever received.
On Christmas Eve, while we waited for Santa, he brought down this large rectangular shape and placed it gingerly by the tree. I knew it was something he had made, and so I probably should have known I was a goner, crying-wise, at that moment. He encouraged me to open it then, without the bustle of kids and Christmas around us, so I might enjoy it more.
I peeled the paper back and, as I've mentioned, began to cry. He had put together a timeline of all of the owners of our house, starting with the man who built it, my great great great grandfather, Hiram Packard, and ending with me. There have been seven Packard owners since the house was built 160 years ago, and Steve included a picture (with the exception of one we can't find), and a bio for each person. Around the edges he included a property tax bill from 1885 for $14 and some change. He added pictures of the house throughout the years, including when route 9 was what is now our current driveway.
It's beautiful, and I couldn't stop looking at it.
Looking at the faces, the similarities. Reading the bios, how every one of the owners served the town in multiple ways (selectmen, town clerk, firefighter, Historical Society, etc).
I was amazed, all over again, that I had married a man who knew me so well. Who knew my passion for my family history, this town and this house. This beautiful, old house that has seen so much love, and it's share of heartache, too. To commemorate that in the way that he did, well, I love him for it.
Thank you, Steve.
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