As a child, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t the prettiest house or the biggest house or that I shared a room with my sister or that we all shared one bathroom for a long time. It was just our house and I was comfortable and happy in every part of it.
Thinking about that house and the life I had there has given me a needed chance to reflect on my house now. I tend to fuss over it and complain about it a little too often. I don’t like this or I am tired of that. I covet other people’s houses and neighbourhoods overlooking the best part of ours which is simply that it is our home. Our home where our kids play (and eat) all over the place, where we love to host our friends and where we have built most of our life together so far.
When I drove by my old house this morning I was hit all at once with a lifetime of memories with my family. Where my sister and I played catch on the front lawn and broke the new lattice on the fence that my Dad had just finished building. Where my Dad would spend hours doing something or another in the garage and where we woke up to over twenty years of Christmas mornings. And where my younger sister infamously climbed a ladder leading up to my other sister’s room to break in to steal her clothes.
That house saw my sisters and me grow up. It is where I picture my Dad on his chair in the rec room. I can still hear the radio playing, like it always was, while my mom did the dishes after dinner. Every room and scratch and banged up wall holds a moment from my past. I think all of these memories are what made it so hard for me to even go into that house, one last time, right before it was sold. I just couldn’t say goodbye to the life that I had loved so much.
And there it all is, right there in front of me, every time I pass by it. It’s on the lawn, in the garage, on the front step my mom and I would always sit on after dinner and in the top left window that was my tiny, perfect bedroom. I loved my life in that house and it is that happy life that I am hoping to create for my own kids. And maybe one day, when they drive by this house, their house, and think it is not a house they’d ever choose for themselves, they too will think that it is beautiful.
Lori, I can't help but have a flurry of memories when drive by your old house. I drive by often for a variety of different reasons and as I approach the street I brace myself... I remind myself it's house. It's not meant to habour memories forever. Yet, as I drive by I have flash backs of our life together. I honestly don't have flashbacks like this with many other houses.... however I believe when your dad died my memory somehow locked itself in and said... "don't you forget how amazing he was.... or where you came from..... grew from... and loved being...." so now as I drive by I have crazy memories pop in. Sometimes just of you and I in the basement, you drawing and me listening to music. Other times I remember your dad calling us to an amazing Sunday breakfast after a night of our parents partying :) The absolute thing I always feel is warmth and love. It's a house Lori. I work in Stratford. I drive by that darn house once a month sometimes it will be 3 months before I do.. but everytime I can't help but look and then the memories seep in... everytime I wonder and every time I remember, all in a 30 second driveby that then lasts a day of wonder and remembrance. I can see the trim on the walls. I can see the glass in the cupboards above the counters or just the island, not the other ones. I can feel myself taking cups out of cupboards and arranging plates on the table for us all to come together. I can see the colour, I can feel the rooms like I was there now, even as I type this. I can see Judy marking her papers in the corner chair at the end of the table in the kitchen. I can see. I can feel. I remember. It was an important part of my life, that I have never let go.. nor do I try to. But it sure feels weird driving a car past your house when I still feel like I'm 10! thanks for the memories. your family impacted how I raise and feel about my family. xooxoxo hugs and kisses, love the bowman girls!
ReplyDeleteYou are very lucky to be right there to reminisce and have all the memories at your fingertips. I'm sure your parents would talk about how that house wasn't this, or wasn't that. But somewhere along the line they too had the revelation that it was "home" for them and their girls.
ReplyDeleteMy mom & dad sold the house I grew up in when I was in university. They proceeded to build their dream house & then separated shortly after it was built. I loved their new house. I had a view of the lake from my bathtub. It just seemed so peaceful. But then the shit hit the fan & it became a very sad home. I remember lying in my mom's bed before I was leaving for Europe (planned before I knew my dad was leaving) & holding my mom because she was bawling. (now I am crying.) But she was & is a strong women because she did not for one moment give me the idea that I should stay behind for her. And it was probably the best thing for her to have me go & so could move on. But the point of this was to say that all of my dreams are of the home I grew up in. Not any of the homes I've been in since. And I love that because I had a very happy home. My mom & dad were the best. My dad coached our sports. They were available for all field trips. My friends liked them. I don't drive by my family home any longer when I got to Kelowna as the people who bought it let it get run down. It made me so sad. How could you do that to my home?? Have you no respect? It's since been sold & the fellow who bought it is a brother of my first best friend (I know longer keep in touch with as she moved away in primary school). Apparently they are renovating. I just hope they infuse some love into a home that had such good beginnings.
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