Random memory
When I was about a year old, my parents divorced.
My mother and I moved in with her parents. At first, we lived with them on their farm, but not long after, we moved to town, a house with a basement apartment for my mother and me.
She worked as a CNA in a local rest home, a job I know she didn’t enjoy, but paid as well as she was going to find in Hick County at the time. My real father I didn’t meet again unti I was 23, but that’s another story.
She would go off to work very early in the morning, and as I was not old enough to go to school, she would leave me sleeping, in my bed. My room was right under my grandmother’s kitchen, and just off my room was a washroom where the back stairs went up into her kitchen.
Every morning when I woke up, I knew I was to go upstairs. Before I would get out of bed, though, I would yell up to my grandma, who was always in the kitchen, and she would tell me good morning, and to come on up. I remember how the east window would be just blinding with the morning sun, and I can still smell that kitchen, and feel it. I would stay with my grandparents whenever my mother was working or away. After she married her second husband, and he adopted me, we stayed there just a bit longer before they bought a small house 4 blocks away and we moved. I still spent hours and hours every day, even on school days, with my grandparents. They were the only place on earth that felt truly safe, that I received unconditional love.
When I was 10, my parents sold the little house and bought a bigger house, which is where I live with my mother now. It is right across the street from where my grandparents lived. I loved having them right across the street. As a teenager, however, it was very hard to get away with anything! I remember being behind the house one afternoon, with a boy from school, and he kissed me… My grandmother just happened to be standing right by the garden gate and quickly shoo-ed him home. She was very upset about it, and didn’t like him at all. She was very right, he has since been in prison more than he has been out of it since he quit school.
Rick and I were married about 4 years (we married in 1985) when the little house came up for sale, and we bought it from the people who bought it from my parents. It is the house that we are waiting to have rewired, and renovated.
My mother’s cousin bought the house across the street, and I have only been in a few times in the 19 years since my grandparent’s car accident that took their life. I don’t know why, I just feel too sad when I go there. I like remembering my grandparent’s furniture, and the way the house smelled. Sometimes, when I am upset or anxious, I close my eyes, and take a detailed tour of every inch of that house, exactly as it was when I was little.
My grandmother and I loved to listen to the morning doves, which are all over here in Hooterville. To this day, every time I hear them I think of her. Almost daily I find dove feathers, sometimes I will be walking through a store and find one on the floor, and I really feel that they are reminders that she is here with me.
The reason that these memories are so precious is that I don’t have a very good memory. I don’t have many memories of my childhood, really, and I am always so afraid that I will lose these too, if I don’t constantly, actively keep a hold of them.
Nothing of any interest to you, perhaps, but it was just what I was thinking about tonight...
My mother and I moved in with her parents. At first, we lived with them on their farm, but not long after, we moved to town, a house with a basement apartment for my mother and me.
She worked as a CNA in a local rest home, a job I know she didn’t enjoy, but paid as well as she was going to find in Hick County at the time. My real father I didn’t meet again unti I was 23, but that’s another story.
She would go off to work very early in the morning, and as I was not old enough to go to school, she would leave me sleeping, in my bed. My room was right under my grandmother’s kitchen, and just off my room was a washroom where the back stairs went up into her kitchen.
Every morning when I woke up, I knew I was to go upstairs. Before I would get out of bed, though, I would yell up to my grandma, who was always in the kitchen, and she would tell me good morning, and to come on up. I remember how the east window would be just blinding with the morning sun, and I can still smell that kitchen, and feel it. I would stay with my grandparents whenever my mother was working or away. After she married her second husband, and he adopted me, we stayed there just a bit longer before they bought a small house 4 blocks away and we moved. I still spent hours and hours every day, even on school days, with my grandparents. They were the only place on earth that felt truly safe, that I received unconditional love.
When I was 10, my parents sold the little house and bought a bigger house, which is where I live with my mother now. It is right across the street from where my grandparents lived. I loved having them right across the street. As a teenager, however, it was very hard to get away with anything! I remember being behind the house one afternoon, with a boy from school, and he kissed me… My grandmother just happened to be standing right by the garden gate and quickly shoo-ed him home. She was very upset about it, and didn’t like him at all. She was very right, he has since been in prison more than he has been out of it since he quit school.
Rick and I were married about 4 years (we married in 1985) when the little house came up for sale, and we bought it from the people who bought it from my parents. It is the house that we are waiting to have rewired, and renovated.
My mother’s cousin bought the house across the street, and I have only been in a few times in the 19 years since my grandparent’s car accident that took their life. I don’t know why, I just feel too sad when I go there. I like remembering my grandparent’s furniture, and the way the house smelled. Sometimes, when I am upset or anxious, I close my eyes, and take a detailed tour of every inch of that house, exactly as it was when I was little.
My grandmother and I loved to listen to the morning doves, which are all over here in Hooterville. To this day, every time I hear them I think of her. Almost daily I find dove feathers, sometimes I will be walking through a store and find one on the floor, and I really feel that they are reminders that she is here with me.
The reason that these memories are so precious is that I don’t have a very good memory. I don’t have many memories of my childhood, really, and I am always so afraid that I will lose these too, if I don’t constantly, actively keep a hold of them.
Nothing of any interest to you, perhaps, but it was just what I was thinking about tonight...
posted by Amethyst Rising at 8:00 PM
6 Comments:
This was of interest to people.Everyone of us got a child within us , a child who needs the love of his grandparents , the warmth of a house ,and the unconditional love of his childhood.
To share some childhood memories of a complete stranger was a pleasure.Thanks.
God bless.
I think it is important to keep our memories alive, the good ones will sustain us and keep us centered. :)
Thank you, HS.
It is very important to me, too, Matt...
I like reading stuff like this. This is good. Keep it up. I have very fond memories of being at my grandparent's house too, after my Mom and Dad got divorced. We all lived in the same small town. I can relate. I miss mine too.
That was beautiful, I felt like I was right there with you.
It's amazing how one memory can entangle itself into many others and make your entire life seem only moments away.
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