It was my first home upon leaving the hospital at birth.
The home I lived in for the whole year I was in kindergarten. The home where I would eat lunch while watching Sesame Street before going to school. The home where Pepe would be waiting at the end of the driveway for me to get off the bus.
Some of the rooms have the same carpet and flooring, others have been updated over the years. The kitchen table, the couch, the chair, the coffee table, the shelves are all the same as they were when I was born.
The back deck still is, and always was red.
The basement still floods most years in the spring.
The paths are still behind the barn, that lead to the row of houses that are close behind that I used to take to play with my cousins. They were used over and over by own siblings, cousins and their friends.
The store is now shut down where I used to walk over with a loonie, and spend an hour figuring out what I wanted to spend it on.
The baseball field and playgound nearby are now gone, reduced to an empty field.
It is the home where I spent so many Christmases, where so many of my childhood pictures were taken.
It was where I celebrated my first, second and third birthdays, and still a few more over the years.
It was the home where I used to be small enough to sit beside my grandfather in his overstuffed rocking chair. It is the home where that same chair sits in the exact same spot to this day.
It was the home where my nephew was taken when he came home from the hospital, where he sat with my grandfather on that same chair.
It was the home that wasn't quite mine, but I always felt comfortable running right to the fridge and cupboards to see what they held inside.
It is the home that was simply minutes from the beach.
It was the home I lived in when I learned how to drive.
It is the home I lived in for all of my high school years.
It is the home that I came back to on holidays when I was away for college.
It is the home where my grandmother spent her days before her life ended in the hospital of cancer.
It is the home where my grandfather was alone when he took his stroke.
It is the home that is now stands alone. The furniture, the dishes, the clothes are all still there, but no one lives there anymore.
It is the home that does not know what the future will bring, and who will be the next people to sleep in its rooms again.
8 comments:
Oh this is such an emotional post! It can be so hard to have such an important, significant memory be so different in the present. I'm sorry to hear it stands empty :(
I drove past the house I lived in when a really young child, where I learned to ride a bike with no training wheels. I was sad to find out it had burned down. I remembered walking up the road to the store with a quarter to buy candy. Even though we only lived there for 2 years, it was the place for some 'firsts' in my life and I was sad to see it go. So, well, I understand. :)
Awww. How sad. :(
LOved reading about the home you lived in and the memories contained within.
OMG I almost cried! I was really close to my father's parents, they pretty much raised me and my sister because our parents both worked full time jobs. I know how attached a child can become to them. Very sweet post!
What a lot of history for that house!
Wow. Such a great post, full of emotion and memories. Beautiful pictures. I think all kids should be able to grow up with room to run.
Really beautiful post. I have similar memories from my grandparents' old home. They lived behind us so it really was a second home to me.
found you through Sunday Funday
Post a Comment