Lately I have been going insane with trying to make sure I am keeping tangible records of where I came from. I have got a fire burning inside me to keep the memories of my grandparents and ancestors alive. I think I feel life speeding up so much right now that I need to know the past is being honored and not forgotten. That way I can feel ready to move forward.
I was still really young when my great grandparents all moved out of their homes and into retirement communities. I had nothing to do with the process of moving furniture and important valuables after they passed away or making sure photos were taken of their homes and precious things. I am sure that was all sorted out properly because they have responsible children, but I sit here now wondering where all their heirlooms went and wishing I at least had a copy of pictures to hold onto instead of just the memories in my brain.
But instead of feeling stressed about the things I have no control over, I decided to move forward with what I can control.
I am going to write about the house that was always there.
My grandma and grandpa moved out of their home in Glendale and into a new one in Riverton last year. It was sad for me. My parents moved around a lot and my grandparents house was one of the only constants I had in my life. I took dozens of pictures on my phone while my mom and grandma were packing up the last of the items left in the house. Luckily I know there are a lot of photos of the different rooms over the years so I didn't have to worry too much about that, but I wanted to photograph the details. I want to make sure I remember, and that my future children can at least know it existed.
I want to remember the way the light hit the front yard at sunset. I want to remember counting the ants on the cracked cement in the back yard. I want to remember the summer days I spent picking plums and cherries in the backyard, and then cooling off with the hose and literally sitting in a plastic bucket filled with water. I want to remember picking mint leaves and eating them or making mint tea. I want to remember all the summer parties with sticky watermelon and kids playing in the sandbox.
I want to remember sitting inside during snowy nights with the family squished between the couch seats. I want to remember the smell of pine that came from the Christmas tree and the warmth of the wood burning stove. I want to remember making gingerbread cookies with my grandma in the kitchen and her not being bothered by the mess. I want to remember the laughter while the family performed skits for each other. I want to remember watching plays that the grandkids put together on the stage.
Luckily the family is all still here and we get to enjoy many of the same things in their new house. But it is really special when you spend years upon years making memories in the same home. I will really treasure that house in my heart forever.
