You know… I talk a really big game about how we move from one house to another without the inconvenience of the emotional ties that most people feel with their homes. But, the truth is I was not always this way. I’ve had my heart broken. And it all came rushing back to me this week when I saw pictures of the one that got away… the last place that really felt like home.
My mom sent my brother and me (yes this is proper grammar, it’s not “my brother and I”, contrary to popular belief) a Zillow link earlier this week and when I opened it up my heart jumped up into my throat. It’s kinda like the feeling that you got in college when you saw your ex with a new chick for the first time. Like, WOW, haven’t thought about you for ages, but I wasn’t expecting that gut check. Unfortunately for me, whenever this happened I was usually wearing sweatpants and slippers complemented by unclean hair whilst eating a bag of Oreos in the grocery store checkout line. Sigh.
As I opened up the first picture I felt sad. The people who’d bought our HOME hadn’t taken care of it. The yard is unkempt and every window, for whatever reason, looks different.
When I look at this yard I see me and my brother standing there with a sign that we made out of 30 sheets of dot matrix printer paper that said “World’s Best Mom” to surprise our Mom when she came home on Mother’s Day. I see 50,000 graduation signs that my brother’s friends collected from around our neighborhood and stuck in our yard in the middle of the night when they graduated from high school. I see twinkle lights hanging from the gutters all the way across the front of the house, back when they’d just come out and they were THE Christmas decoration to have.
As I kept clicking through the pictures, the memories kept flooding back. It became clear that I am far too hormonal to be taking this trip down memory lane, but it was too late.
Here I see all of the high school parties that we weren’t supposed to have. I remember putting a keg in the gazebo and having keg stand competitions. I remember traffic jams on our street because there were so many people at our house. I remember cooking about 100 lbs. of meat from our neighbor’s freezer in the middle of the night. I remember a giant YIELD sign ending up in our yard. I remember having to clean up with a hose on more than one occasion. I remember laughing. And, though I didn’t get it at the time, I see carefree youth.
My mom, my brother and I moved from a 1400 square foot house to this split-level beauty, with a brief six month layover at my Grandmother’s house, in 1995. We were so excited to have more room and to be in a neighborhood closer to all of our friends. Mom was having some work done in the house before we moved in, plus my Grandmother (THE GRANDMAMA, if you please) forbid us to move out of her house before Christmas. I remember being so excited to drive over to check out the new house and Mom had put a few Christmas lights in the bushes out front and we made pallets on the living room sofas and floor and all slept in there together for our first night.
This was the living and dining room. To christen the house, our whole family came over, we were all so close, and had a painting party. I remember one of my uncles being in charge of painting the ceiling in this room (you know, because he was the tallest) and as the wine started flowing, he started painting the wall color on the ceiling. And then yelled (jokingly of course) that someone switched it on purpose to sabotage him. This is the room where the Christmas tree went, a garland and our Dickens carolers always went on the mantel, and of course this is where we took all of our important “before Homecoming” or “before Prom” pictures.
I think it was so hard to look at these pictures because it’s been so long since I’ve seen the inside of this house. It seems so much smaller. Funny how life does that I guess. There was so much love and laughter in these rooms and I can still see so clearly the way that we were back then. I moved out after graduation to go to college in 2000, and my brother moved out in 2002. We came home for the holidays and it was always so fun, although probably not for mom since we’d stay out almost all night partying with our old high school friends who were all back in town too.
This was my brother’s room. I see his bed under that track light in the corner and him sitting on it, with his chubby little kid cheeks, playing The Need for Speed on his 3DO.
And this was my room. I had a chair by that window and that’s where I was sitting when I was up in the middle of the night the night that Princess Diana died. That’s where I’d sit and watch my friends with later curfews drive up and down the street and honk. That was the window that had rocks thrown at it to wake me up in the middle of the night. The room was painted a cheery yellow color back then.
The last time I was in this house was in 2006. I was living in a different town after college, but this place still felt every bit like home to me. My mom had been in an accident that changed her financial situation and she made the decision to sell our home. When I walked out of the kitchen door for the last time, something inside me knew that no house would ever feel the same. My first, and only, house heartbreak.
And I was right. Since that day, while I’ve lived in lots of beautiful houses, no place that I’ve settled has ever felt like home. That was the last place that we were kids. The last place that our fundamental family of three lived under one roof. The last place where I had no responsibility. The last place where my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandmother could all come over on a spur of the moment Saturday night.
I sat on that counter every day at lunch my senior year and ate a turkey sandwich before going to “work study”. I rummaged through that refrigerator for late night goodies after coming home from a fun night out. Sooooo many family and friends gathered around that counter.
I understand now that this house felt like home because of all of the love and laughter and memories created there. It was a nest that I was meant to leave. And I left. But that doesn’t mean that my heart did.
It’s so strange that I can look at these pictures and feel like I’m seventeen again, but really I’m twice that age now, and right in the middle of creating a nest for my own babies. Maybe my heart will settle in a new place.
I am looking forward to every single memory that will make this house our home, and heartbreak or not, I wouldn’t be here without the life that we lived in the one that got away.
Well that made me cry. My parents are in the house my dad drew the plans for and helped build. I can’t imagine not having that house to go home to – and pray I have years til that happens…my Dad proudly announces to everyone “that he wants to be drug out of that house when he’s dead.” ?? I pray that my kids feel the same ab our home as we did/do for ours!
Aw you’re too sweet! I’m so glad you can still go “home”… I still miss it to this day. It’s like letting go of a piece of you. 🙁 I also hope that my littles will hold (one of!) our houses this close to their hearts!
What an wonderful thing to have those memories! Hold on to them and never forget! You are so lucky to have those! As you know I now live back “home” and minutes from my childhood home, I love driving past it; however, they changed the outside a bit but I could still tell where things were, well it recently went up for sale, I wanted so bad to see it again. We went on line to look. Well the new owners gutted the entire inside and redid EVERYTHING! I cried there were only two windows/area’s my sister and I actually could place. My mom and dad built that house themselves every inch and to see it gone broke my heart. 🙁 The yard not the same they let it go, at least I have those memories. So I understand your heartbreak. I have not had the recreation of a “home”, the closest for me was Arkansas. Maybe someday….. I know you and Lane will create wonderful, fun, laughter and loving memories in your new “home”! (((HUGS))) <3