Growing up with oak floors, they were simply the floor that went down the hallway and into our three bedrooms; cool under my feet and slippery in socks. Majestic Virginia Hall at Mary Washington College had wood floors in the dorm rooms. My roommates and I quickly learned not to scooch our bottoms on the floor unless we were willing to pluck out splinters thrust from the well-worn floor.
The following five years were spent on carpeted floors of varying descriptions. Only one carpet remains firmly in memory - a sculpted 70's wall-to-wall carpet remain whose color name I decisively discovered when I misplaced a roll away brussel sprout.
My Portland, Oregon and Charlottesville, Virginia apartments returned me to the comfort of oak floors.
Puppies and a baby found their footing on berber wall-to-wall carpet in Roanoke County, Virginia. Two years old, my son struggled with asthma and wood floors became a priority in the search for our next home.
We moved to our Roanoke City, Virginia house with oak floors in May 2010. There's a dark spot in a bedroom from the previous owner's cat. There are holes drilled in room corners for cable television we never used. There's a couple of dents in my bedroom floor from when my son scarily pulled over my jewelry chest. There's a bit of tackiness where the 24" x 48" rug and rug pad lay in my office serving as a collection point for my family to snuggle and watch movies on my computer screen across the room. There's a dent in the dining room floor where my husband and I remembered the IKEA cabinet comes apart in two pieces.
Today I did my final vacuum of these floors and closed the door on a chapter of my life. It was a chapter filled with moments that challenged me to stand strong, bend in the wind, adapt to the seasons, and soak up the moments of swinging in the shade of a mighty tree. Today I settle into my life in Eggleston, Virginia with a mix of 90-year old wood floors and 9-month old wood floors. Our lives will blemish these floors and we'll reflect on those stories as well.
