The House That Built Me

         

  Today, as I sit down in front of my computer I am plagued with memories that won’t go away. Memories aren’t a bad thing, but these ones are persistent. It all started when I remembered my childhood room. More specifically I was thinking of music being in my subconscious. But when I thought about it more, the picture of my old room just stuck with me. So then I started to reminisce about my house. Let me tell you about the house where I grew up. I think it was a raised ranch. Don’t hold me to that because I know nothing about houses. What I do remember, though, is that my grandmother always said the house was backwards. She always said that the porch should have been on the front of the house and the main door should have been at the back. Looking back on it now, I don’t know how it could have been any other way. The house was old and had its flaws as I grew up, but at the same time it was a perfect house. They tell me my grandfather built it well before I came along. The property had acres upon acres of trees. There was a pond and a bunch of wild animals as well. As I got older, my grandmother sold off pieces of the land here and there, but the house and immediate land was always ours. We had a homemade swing set, an old shipping container turned fort, a separate standing garage that was dangerous for us kids, and a well in the front that I don’t think was in use. The house had 2 floors. The basement had ugly furniture and huge television set. You remember the old TVs that were actually cabinets too? It was one of those! And the couch was this ugly brown color with designs on it. It was quite comfortable, but ugly as sin. I mean, it belonged in the 80’s or even the 70’s, which I’m sure, is when they bought it. There was also a bar down there. As kids, we loved playing behind the bar. There were old beer cans all over the wall, but it wasn’t a functioning bar anymore. From what I can remember, there were bottles of tonics but I don’t remember any liquor being there. We also had a small bathroom and our washer/dryer down there. It was a comfortable yet functional space. It was technically the basement, but the layout didn’t make it feel like a basement. It opened into our 2-car garage that only had room for 1 car by the time I came around. The other side was full of junk. The rider mower was kept in there with many of my own toys. There was an old workbench towards the back and a small closet. I don’t remember what was in the closet, but I think it was a water tank or something. The only thing I do remember is that frogs used to be in there all the time, hiding from my cats no doubt. The ceiling of the garage had popcorn paint on it. I don’t know if you have ever seen popcorn paint, but it is so cool! Anyway… it took 2 flights of stairs to get upstairs to the main level, but even that space was done well. There was a landing in between that had double doors. These opened into the “front” yard. Nobody ever used that yard and rarely did they use that door. To get to it from the driveway, you had to go up some stairs and follow a path, and there was a little tiny porch. We always used the door at the back of the house because it was closer to where you actually parked in the driveway. But let's get back to the house. The wall in the stairway was one of my favorites. The entire wall to the right of the second staircase was made of mirrors. They were about the same size and shapes of bricks, but they were mirrors with gold over them. So it wasn’t like a big mirror that you looked in, but they were more decorative. And the fact that the stairwell was completely open made them look so much cooler. The living room was the left of the stairs, but a railing separated it. So there wasn’t a wall making the stairway feel small. To the right was a hallway that led to the bedrooms and main bathroom. The bathroom was standard, long bathroom with tub, linen closet, and sink. There was a rather large counter for the sink and gorgeous mirror above it, but I think that was actually common in older houses because I have seen that set up in more than one bathroom in my life. There were 3 bedrooms; the master bedroom had another mini bath that actually shared a wall with the master bath. That probably made life easy for the plumbers. The kitchen, dining room and living room were actually attached in a type of open concept. There weren’t doors in between them, though there was a doorway to one side of the kitchen. At the top of the stairs, there was an open doorway to a smallish kitchen, which then opened into the dining room, which flowed into the living room. My grandmother always kept old-timey kitchen things on a shelf that ran the length of the kitchen. We had an old wooden table that took a lot of abuse as I grew up. We usually ate at that table when it was just the 2 of us. But we used the big dining room table for holidays and Sunday dinners. Every Sunday we ate with the whole big family and my grandmother would make pot roast. It was always a dry roast, and there was always sauerkraut, but the gravy and potatoes were delicious. She used one of those bags where you just throw everything in and cook it. The ending result was always deliciously tender and flavored carrots and potatoes, but a roast that was a little over cooked. It was a long running joke that she could burn water though, so we all appreciated the fact that her roasts, albeit dry, tasted good. There was love and laughter every week, and that was what mattered. And whenever my dad was at the dinner, we heard the story of how my cousin got tricked into eating horseradish as a kid. It was a classic story that I’m sure we all got sick of. But to this day, I can’t look at horseradish without remembering it. That dining room table also came in handy around Christmas time. My aunt has been baking since as long as I can remember, and Christmas was always her time to shine. She filled that 12-14 seat table with cookies every year. There were chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter cookies, cookies with Hershey kisses, thumbprint cookies, nut tossies, cut out cookies and more. The cut out cookies were the reason we were usually all there. As kids, it was our job to decorate them. It was a Christmas time tradition that I will never forget. The cookies always looked like you would expect a child decorated cookie to look, and there were always a few sheets that got burned. Burnt cookies never went to waste in my house though because those were my grandmother’s favorites. Burnt cookies and decorating were her favorite parts of Christmas. And boy did we decorate. In the living room, there was a coffee table that was absolutely beautiful. Well, it was way back then. It was a wooden table but it had a marble top. At Christmas time, my grandmother had a little train track that we put along the edges. The living room also had one of my favorite aspects of the house. Along the far side of the living room there were large bay windows. The windowsill was low enough that as little kids we could climb onto it. I spent many hours on that windowsill. I would practice my keyboard on it, sit and read on it, and even used it to put on many performances. The curtains were huge and long and it was almost like being on a very skinny stage. You could also just sit and look out the windows at all the trees. From those windows we spied bears, foxes, bunnies, and many a cardinal hanging out on a tree. Cardinals were my grandmother’s favorite bird. They say that a cardinal represents a loved one who passed. So now whenever I see a cardinal I of course think of her. There is so much more I could tell you of that house, and so many tangents I can go off on. I could tell you about remembering watching Pocahontas while home sick as guys painted the whole place, or about stubbing my toe all the time on the driveway because I refused to wear shoes. I could tell you about sitting on the back deck listening to my grandmother tell stories of life on the farm, or about riding down the really steep driveway on our big wheels. I don’t remember a lot of specific childhood events, and I’m told that is normal. But I remember enough, and I remember the little things. I will never forget the house I grew up in, and I will never forget the woman who raised me in it. I miss her every day, and my heart will always hold a special place for both house, and home.