First Night in Hillsborough

Patty and I just passed the 18-year-mark as Hillsborough residents.  As we get further and further from the Spring of 1993, details seem to slip away.  I do remember that we had already asked our landlord if we could break the lease on our apartment, and then - as the completion date for our new house in Rohill kept getting pushed back - asked him if we could stay a little longer.  Not once, but twice.

April 30 eventually became the mutually agreed upon drop dead date to get our stuff out of Freehold and up to Somerset County.  We pressed the builder with daily phone calls to put all resources into OUR house.  Kind of silly now, as we had no kids and could surely have found a place to stay.

In the event, we had our closing on April 29 - and if I recall correctly, the moving van did roll on April 30 - along with my much beloved 1980 Pontiac Phoenix, completely filled with clothes and personal items - the last trip that car ever made.  It died right here in the garage on Conover Drive, and remained there for months.  


Beekman Lane and Conover Drive, Spring 1993

  After spending more than 6,000 nights in Hillsborough, I think back to what my grandfather said to me during his one visit here later that summer, "this house feels like home".  Eighteen years later, this still feels like home - just a bit more crowded!