A House Full Of Memories
From the time I was eight years old until I was a senior in high school I lived with my parents and brother in a ranch style house close to the elementary school where my mother taught 6th grade. Then my senior year in high school my parents built a house outside of town, near my grandparents. It was larger and nicer but I was sad about leaving a home I’d lived in so long.
After college I moved away for several years and then Bill and I married and soon moved back home. We’ve lived in this town since 1981 and every day since I moved back I have driven by my childhood home, but not once have I ever been back inside it.
The strange thing is that over the years I have consistently had dreams that take place inside my old house. In my dreams the house hasn’t changed a bit and neither has my family. My mom and dad are both there and my younger brother is still a tall, gangly teenager with bright blonde hair.
Last week I pulled into the parking lot of a local gas station that is next door to the house where I grew up. I looked over and there were two women in the back yard of my old house. Without stopping to think about it I walked over and introduced myself and the lady (who informed me she was renting the house) invited me inside.
The last time I was in that house was right after Christmas in 1973. That’s when we moved into a trailer to wait for our new house to be finished. When I stepped inside the sliding glass doors it was like stepping back in time.
The house was different, of course, but the structure was the same. The lady who rented the house could tell I was emotional. The thing that struck me the most was how small the rooms were. It was as if the house had shrunk! I stood in the den and pictured the two leather couches we had on either side of the room. Then I looked at the kitchen. The cabinets were the same but they had been painted white, and the bar where the phone sat was so short and so small I just couldn’t believe it.
I asked the lady if I could go see my old bedroom. She led the way and again I was struck by how small it was. How had it held all my furniture? I didn’t even realize it but tears were poring down my face. How many slumber parties had taken place there? How many nights had I hid under the covers to talk on my phone? A million memories flooded over me and took my breath away.
I peeked in the bathroom, my parent’s bedroom and my brother’s room. His room had been down the hall from mine and if I patted the end of my bed and he heard me then he could turn around and lay at the end of his bed and we could see each other and whisper secrets. His room was no bigger than a decent size closet. It had been blue when we lived there and his curtains had boats on them. My room had been pink and then in later years, red and gold.
I thanked the lady for allowing me to walk through the house and then I left.
The house was my childhood home, but it had changed a lot since 1973. For one thing it has been bought and sold several times and the last owners have neglected it to the point where it needs some major sprucing up. I wish the lady who gave me a tour good luck it with it. She has her work cut out for her.
As for me, I’ve changed a lot since 1973 too and to be honest, I could use a little sprucing up too.
The house brought back a lot of memories but the main thing it did was remind me of how much I loved my parents and being a family. There were good times and bad but over all, the years we lived in that house were good years. It may have been small, but it was full of love and we sure made a lot of memories there and I suspect that is the reason why my dreams take me back in time to that house.
I grew up in a small house, too. One thing I remember is being able to lie in bed and hear my parents talking in the next room. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I would fall asleep to the soft rise and fall of their conversation.
I immediately thought of the same song, too! Anyway, what a moving story. But this is life. I don’t think anyone will ever be able to forget the home they grew up it – it is the first one, it influences people the most. Isn’t it just amazing to be able to see how the place has changed over the years, though?
I have been by the former houses I grew up it. I’d love to see the ones in the country again. They so fun houses, especially the two older ones. “The House that Built Me” is good. I just came from another blog site that has that on her playlist and I heard it. What a coincidence! It’s funny how we think of those places we used to live in. It will always be a part of us, our story.
As I was reading your blog, long before I saw the previous post, I was thinking about the same song she mentioned. I can’t imagine my parents ever moving away from my childhood home. It was the only “home” I ever knew and I can’t imagine going to visit them anywhere else. It’s been 10 years since I left home, and only in the past four years have I called another house “home”. Now when I go to visit, I say I am going to, “Momma and Daddy’s,” but I still remember that my hands are traced on the attic floor and that I wrote next to them, “My name is Micah and some day I will be successful.” I don’t know about all that, but I do know that it was the “house that built me”.
Loved reading about the house you grew up in! If you have not heard the song The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert you should look it up! Love u!