Death can turn your life upside down. It wasn’t easy saying
goodbye to my parents, and then it was time to let go of my childhood home. I
was driving to meet a couple who might want to buy it.
On the car ride, my mind was spilling over with childhood
memories of past holidays: the chaos of a house full of cousins, people
laughing, sharing stories, and enjoying their time together. My vision blurred
as tears filled my eyes. How could I say goodbye to it all? My entire
childhood—my past?
When I arrived, I hurried up the sidewalk to the house,
twisted the key in the lock, and flung the door open. I was home.
I stood gazing at the staircase my brother and I used to
race down every Christmas morning. I stared into the living room. In the corner
of that room, there were indentions on the carpet where my dad’s recliner sat
for as long as I could remember. I could still see him leaning back with a book
on his chest and his glasses pulled down on his nose, snoring.
I went into the kitchen where Mom spent many Sunday
afternoons baking cookies. I don’t think I could put a number on the peanut
butter sandwiches, glasses of Kool-Aid, and warm fresh cookies my friends and I
enjoyed in that kitchen. Oh, and the aroma of fresh rolls and a turkey baking
on Thanksgiving that wafted out of that kitchen still made my stomach growl.
I walked over to the sink and gazed out the window at the
backyard. Outback sat an old rusty swing set. My brother and I tried to see who
could swing the highest. Of course, it wasn’t so run down back then. It was
green with white stripes at one time. I smiled as I thought back to the time I
fell off the slide and bloodied my knees. My dad rushed out to me, wiped away
my tears, took me inside, and put bandages on my wounds.
As I stood there reminiscing, a quote came to mind from one
of my favorite authors, Thomas Wolfe. He said, “You can’t go home again.” I
always thought that quote was correct, but the more I thought about it, I had
to disagree. While another family will own this home, and I’ll never be able to
walk through those doors again, this house is only a structure. I’ll always be
able to return home as long as I have my memories. Time spent with my family is
what made that house a home.
I can close my eyes and go home to my memories
anytime.
