Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Went to the old house yesterday, dropped off the garbage, switched the lights around, let Storm run around in our old yard... the one that has no fence, and tall, green grass sways amongst the pine and birch trees. I stood on the deck taking in the scents of the woods and the blooming flowers. Under the maple trees in the front yard, holes have been dug to bury my beloved Tank, Abby, and the grand dame of them all, Boozer dog. It is still my house. It still smells like my family. It still has some of my things inside. But barring a PowerBall win, or a reprieve from the bank, in two weeks, the house is no longer mine.

My son grew up here - building tree forts in the forest around our home, playing water guns in the river a mere 1/2 block from our backyard, chasing Tank through the woods while stumbling over the fallen trees and rolling boulders.

The house could tell stories: the night the tornado sirens wailed, yet we were safe inside, down in the crawl space never worrying whether or not we would survive, hearing nothing of the winds howling nearby; the afternoons spent silently upon the expansive deck, watching the young fawns creep quietly out of the woods, their mothers nearby and then falling asleep in the middle of the backyard, curled up like cloven dachshunds; the year the flood waters rose so high, I had geese and mallards building nests in my back yard, swimming aimlessly through the seepage built lake that gave them a home and sanctuary away from the fox who loved to traipse through the yard at all times - day or night; the weeks I spent while planning a different home in a different nearby city with a different kitchen and obviously, a different life; the Christmas's spent with the 15' tall pine trees fully lit with white lights and green cords, only adornments coming from the golden balls, and red ornaments from each year of my son's life; the afternoon my son came home from school in tears and terror having been threatened by some thug kids on the bus with a knife and me going into a fit to protect my "cub" and us sitting on the couch, me hugging him tightly trying to protect the greatest gift in my life; and more...

Locking the front door quietly, taking in the sight of the eagle soaring overhead silently looking for fish in the nearby river, Storm panting out the back window of the truck, I started to leave (again)... with the radio playing:



The Lyrics:

I know they say you cant go home again.
I just had to come back one last time.
Ma'am I know you don't know me from Adam.
But these handprints on the front steps are mine.

And up those stairs, in that little back bedroom
is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar.
And I bet you didn't know under that live oak
my favorite dog is buried in the yard.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here its like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself
if I could just come in I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory
from the house that built me.

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years.
From 'Better Homes and Garden' magazines.
Plans were drawn, concrete poured,
and nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama's dream.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here its like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself.

If I could just come in I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory
from the house that built me.

You leave home, you move on
and you do the best you can.
I got lost in this whole world
and forgot who I am.

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here its like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself.

If I could walk around I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory
from the house that built me.

1 comment:

ForeverRhonda said...

I have similiar feelings about the house where my grandfather lives now. They bought that property when I was 11 and it pains me to think of him selling it.

Great song too!