I moved away from my family home when I graduated in 1972. In the years that followed I made many trips back to visit and then brought my own children and introduced them to the wonders of the outdoors. As we kids grew with our own lives, my parents grew with their own and they sold the family home. Although it had new owners we were always able to go back and visit "the old House" and share our memories and compare notes with the new occupants. My brother and I would drive out to "the House" and walk the property, check on Buffalo Rock, get a drink of ice cold spring water from the resevior, and relive countless memories of rodeos, games we played, etc. I guess it was harder for Jim and me because we were born and raised at "the House" and even though it was in the hands of others, we were still connected to it at a heart level. Silly I suppose, I mean it is "just a house"...but not to us. Through all the years and all the new owners, it always stayed the same, it always had the "come on in the door's open" feeling to it. And time moved on.
In all the years that have come and gone and all the changes that have happened in all our lives, the one constant for me was "the house". I know that it probably sounds pretty stupid to maintain a connection to a structure and a piece of land, but the best memories of my life were shared there with my parents and brothers and sisters. I know it doesn't mean the same to them, but sometimes when I needed a little grounding I could always just drive by and remember when my oldest brother told me that if I jumped off the highest part of the roof with a pillow case it would act like a parachute (he lied by the way), or look at the apple orchard and remember the hours my sister and I sat stuck in a tree while "old board face" the bull stalked around the tree beneath us, and clearing pine cones off the lawn with a golf club (Jim, I really am sorry I almost killed you with that golf club but you should have moved!!) The best memories are of the family sitting around the firepit at night while our father played the guitar and sang for us. He has such an amazing voice that was so full of love.
In all the years and in spite of all the changes, it never once occured to me that the house too would change. The old owner passed away and "the House" has been sold again. I drove out to the property today and discovered that the final period has been placed at the end of my childhood. The new owners have put on the addition of a huge 3-car garage to house all their "toys" I'm sure. They painted the house a different color and there are boxes and crap all over the patio stacked so high you can't see the valley through the windows, and in the back yard is a big metal chain-link fence. I felt like somebody had kicked my puppy! Just like that, "home" was gone. Now it just looks like every other obnoxious big house that money "fixed" up to out-do the Jones's.
Maybe I'm just getting old and sappy. Maybe the fact that I've finally reached my official "senior" status makes me hold with such a tight grasp to that which made my heart grow fonder. Maybe that was my last link to my parents and my childhood, the things that made me feel safe and so loved. I feel sad for my brother Jim because he had the same "heart" connection that I did, I feel even sadder that my older brother and sister didn't. I guess everyone has something they old tight to themselves,something they try not to lose.
Change happens, whether it is for the better or not. It's late and I'm empty. I think that tomorrow I will begin again. I will make my house the "home" that my children remember with fondness. My grandchildren will remember Grandma's house with a smile. I have pine cones to clear off the lawn so I better go pick up a golf club!
Love Me
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