For the past several months my mom, and her brothers and sisters have been working on fixing up and selling my Oma and Opa’s house. It has been a long process that included weekend after weekend of painting, tiling, building, cleaning, etc. After being on the market for a few months, the house finally sold this past weekend.
While this was something to be grateful for, it also makes me sad because I have so many memories of my grandparents and practically growing up there, or at least spending any chance I could when I was little there. And even though it has been several years since my grandparents have lived there, it was comforting to just walk around inside the house, stand on the back porch and look out into the backyard and just remember. Because, honestly going to the cemetery isn’t quite the same as being at their house.
|My cousins and I wearing the Easter dresses my Oma made each one of us, sitting on their front porch|
I heard this song, The House That Built Me, by Miranda Lambert this morning on the radio and it inspired me to write this blog.
This was the house my mom, her brothers and sisters grew up in, as well as myself, and all my cousins. We spent the summers there with my Oma, playing restaurant in the backyard, reading library books in the hallway, playing SkipBo at the kitchen table, helping Oma bake in the kitchen, falling asleep on the couch or on the floor while both grandparents fell asleep in their chairs…celebrating family Christmases, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving. We’d go to their house to show them our good grades on our report cards, visit with them after school, spend weekend nights there just because.
It would have been nice if the house could have stayed in the family, but instead another family has the chance to create memories of their own. A family that has small children that will appreciate the big backyard and the porch that’s perfect for pretending you are serving a restaurant of twenty with mud pies and sand cakes.
And until I see them both in the biggest and greatest house there is in the world, I cherish both my Oma and Opa and the memories I have growing up in their house.