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Follower of Jesus Christ. Lover of people. Lover of animals. High Point University graduate. Appalachian State graduate. High school English teacher. AXΩ.

It Built Me - Grandma's House

In two days, one of the houses that "built me" will be a mere memory to me.
When my dad was 7 years old, his parents moved the family down to High Point from Galax, Virginia. They moved into a ranch-style brick home that would be filled with years and years of love and happiness.
My dad grew up in this house, and from what I've seen in pictures, and from what I know from my experiences, if the walls could talk, they'd have so much to say.
I go to the house almost every day. Not because I'm a crazy person, and not because I have emotional issues, but because I like to have peace and quiet to read, it's a comforting place, it's a wonderful place to talk to God for hours without any distractions, and yes, because I know that it won't be long before I can't go there at all, and I want to go while I can. I want to savor it while it's there for me to enjoy.
I know it's just a house. Walls and floors and carpet and brick. But like I said, if walls could talk, you would hear so much. It's hard to believe that that empty house was once filled with life, hosted countless parties, was decorated to the nines, smelled like brownies on most days, and on holidays was the happiest place on Earth for me.
I think about these things when I go over there to read, think, and pray.
I look around the empty rooms and I think about what was once there, the things I saw them taking out on that emotional day in October.
Things are things, and material things fade. Only memories last forever.
My memories take me back every time I look around that empty home. That shell, that house that was once a home.
Sometimes knowing I won't have it forever seems unbearable to me, and other times, I know that this is a part of life, and we must all keep moving forward.
Sometimes I think I won't feel close to Grandma anymore if I can't go to her house and read, think, and pray. And smell that distinct smell anymore.
You, reading this, might think I'm crazy by now. But I know everyone has felt emotionally attached to a house, right?
I mean, this is the only house I've been able to go to my entire life, since I was born.
In 2000, we moved out of the house my family lived in when I was born, and in 2001, we moved Granny out of the house that she'd lived in since my mom was little.
So to me, this house has been the ONLY constant in my life, materially speaking.
And in two days, I won't be able to say that anymore.
Because it will belong to someone else.
I just hope they know how lucky they are, but how can they?
They will have no idea about all the love and memories of that house.
They will have no idea that I lost my first tooth in that house in December when I was six.
They will have no idea that I used to have tea parties with my grandma in that living room.
They will have no idea that we used to make brownies in the kitchen and lick the spoons and bowls.

They will have no idea that my brother and I spent so much time there with Grandma when we were little, watching Bonanza and Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman.
They will have no idea that their house is the reason why I wish I was born in another time period.
They will have no idea that my grandparents celebrated 50 wonderful years of marriage in that house, with family and friends.
They will have no idea that we had sleepovers with Grandma in that house, and ate homemade popcorn.
They will have no idea about all of the Thursday evenings I spent there with Grandma in middle school, watching Jeopardy and eating Arby's after she picked me up from piano lessons.
Most importantly, they will have no idea about the amazing woman that lived there, who has a home in Heaven now.

But I'll remember.
And the walls will remain silent, and the house will become a haven for a new family, who will make new memories in it.
And I hope I can have peace in knowing this.



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