That is the reason why all of our family vacations were spent visiting them and - for the most part - vice versa. We would load up into my parent's minivan and make the two day journey (24 hours if you are daring enough to drive straight through) to see these familiar faces. My sisters and I would memorize the order of the states as we drove through them and celebrate each "Welcome to" sign, knowing that meant we were one step closer to our final destination.
My Grandmother's front door.
I can remember crossing the state line and feeling our loaded down van accelerate as my Dad's foot pushed down on the gas pedal. He was excited to get home. I can still feel the butterflies in my stomach when her street sign would come into view and we would turn the corner, her house only minutes away.
I would blink and there it was. There she was - standing in the doorway - waving excitedly, as anxious as we were to get us inside.
When I close my eyes I can hear the creak of the door opening and closing as we excitedly ran in and out, unloading enough luggage to last a year. I can see the old brown cupboards that she had stocked with our favorite sugary cereals and snacks. The countertop, where my Aunt would sit eating rolled up bologna with cheese and mustard. The stove where my Grandmother made her famous meatballs and Thanksgiving stuffing. I can feel the cold air coming up from the basement stairs and the green shag carpet beneath my toes. I can hear her dog, Sasha, barking excitedly at the familiar visitors arriving.
This place, with it's sounds and smells and love, always felt like home.
My Grandmother passed away in 2002 and my family made the decision to sell her house. I had not seen it - even a picture of it - since then. A few months ago, much to my family's surprise, my cousin saw that her house had been placed back onto the market and he bought it. When my sister sent me a picture of the house, as a way of telling me, I burst into tears.
Since purchasing the home, my cousin has begun updating and remodeling the house to his liking. I am thrilled for him and completely understand the need to update it, but with each picture that I see my heart hurts just the tiniest bit. It is no longer my Grandmother's home, it hasn't been for a long, long time. It isn't that place that I see when I close my eyes. That warm place that I can retreat to when the world gets to be too much. The walls are there, the floors are there, the windows and doors are all there, but everything else is with me.
That's what I have to remember.
"I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here it's like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself.
If I could walk around I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory
from the house that built me."
