Tuesday, October 1, 2013

The End of a 44 Year Old Relationship

The other day, I ended a 44 year old relationship... Not with a person, but a place.  I feel sad, yet free, at the same time.

The day has come to hand over the deed to a unfamiliar stranger. 

I may keep something... The worn key that opened the door to a now quite place that was always there.   A familiar loving place.   A safe and secure place.  The hallowed place where I learned to walk, talk, play, cry, grow, and eventually leave to find my place in the world. 

There was always the option of coming back to feel the familiar security.   Into the safety of the four walls called "home."  Now, no longer, taken from the list.  A vast void that will need to be refilled.

The home were Mom and Dad lived.  Where they welcomed you back home every Christmas.  Every Mother's Day to tend the flower beds.   Every Father's Day for cooking out on the grill.   Every birthday with or without presents.  And even when there was no occasion, just to stop by and visit.

Now, the gas grill is gone.  The once-well tended flower beds are overgrown with weeds.   The Christmas tree laying in parts on the garage floor, soon to be taken away.   The small shed rotting on its foundation no longer serves a purpose.  The clothes lines waiting for new duties of holding up sheets to dry in the warm summer breeze.

And now Mom and Dad have departed.   The once loved-filled home is an empty and silent shell.  The comfy furniture is gone.  The washstand and kitchen cabinet from the family farm now stand in new places in a new home.  The generations of dishes all packed and loaded.  The soft warm beds with woolen blankets and patchwork quilts taken away.   The path-stained carpet has recesses where the round feet of tables one stood.  The rooms sound hollow and lonely when you walk across the bare hard-wood floors.

I can remember the corner of the closet where I would hide.   The attic where I stashed treasures.   The living room floor where I played. 

Although the physical walls are no longer a safety option, my memories live on. I have plenty to keep me warm and comfy when I need them.

Bless this home and all it meant to me.  It was a great 44 years.

CSM

1 comment:

  1. I can't tell you how much I miss your dad. He became a member of my family and I miss him. And I know that Malcolm misses "grandpa."

    ReplyDelete

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