(A post forSundayScribblings)
I live in my hometown. I moved away for two years to a neighboring town a couple of decades back. It just didn't seem right to me. It never felt right. I headed back to the familiar surroundings. It's the place I call home. My mom died three and a half years ago. Dad stayed in the old home for a couple of years. Old men and old homes alone are a difficult combination. We moved my father to stay with my brother. In the same town. Of course. What should we do with his old house. My brother and I were too lazy to fix it up to sell. And too cheap to sell it "as is."
I went to visit the old house. Like it would be my house. Not like the boy who grew up in it. Not like the son who would come for holiday dinners and after work toddy's. No. Like it was my house.
Hardwood floors. Seen uncarpeted for the first time. An ugly mantle reimagined as beautiful through the eyes of ownership. The ascension up the steep stairs. The steep stairs that only old houses have.
"Will I be able to get up and down these stairs when I am in my 80's like my mother and father did?"
I continued scaling until reaching the summit. I sit on the top layer of a three layer cake. This house has a basement too. And a detached garage. With a funky side room connected to it. That room was where I used to live. Out back. Within proximity of my parents but with more privacy than was probably wise.
I live in this town because I now live in that house. I think it makes my dad happy as he waits for the angels to come. The house that he shared with the woman he was married to for 53 years is still in the family. But, even if I didn't live in this house, I'd live in this town. It's where I grew up. It's home.
13 comments:
What a lovely house! I am so glad it's still in the family --and the comment about 'old men and old homes alone are a difficult combination' made me laugh and almost cry at the same time. My grandfather comes to mind!
--Shuku, Sunday Scribblings
I used to yearn for that life. One town. One place. How special and blessed your family is to have the family home still part of the family.
Yes. Looks like a great house. And sounds like it really is home.
Your home has that special look that it is cared for by someone who cares.
i like the way you show how much possibility opened up when you began to look at the house in a different way. and i'm glad you found your home (again - but maybe a little differently).
I love an old house full of memories and funky stairs... I live in my hometown too. I can't imagine living anywhere else. So did you update the ugly mantle?
I loved reading about how the house shifted and transformed in a way that it became yours. You matured decades in just one paragraph. This is some wonderful writing. It feels real...and that feels good.
A bungalow! How lovely. Sounds as though you have decided it's home and home it will stay!
A bungalow! How lovely. Sounds as though you have decided it's home and home it will stay!
A bungalow! How lovely. Sounds as though you have decided it's home and home it will stay!
Precious story; solid, house that is truly a home.
Looks like a great house! I love the idea of homes staying within a family, holding so many memories within its walls.
I never had that feeling. I'm jealous!
*smile*
A very nice, warm post. Thanks.
-n
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