This article was such a lovely reminder of my grandparents' home in Kentucky.
http://realestate.msn.com/slideshow.aspx?cp-documentid=24073256>1=35000
My Papaw passed years ago and I haven't driven up to visit my Nanny Sue since highschool. I have my reasons and excuses. However, the memories I have of their house near the river are wonderful; the grand homemade breakfasts and those black and yellow hummingbirds I've never seen anywhere else, the basement full of antique hidden treasures, an old CB radio we used to direct imaginary airplanes, the sleds we navigated down the carpet stairs repeatedly, our grandfather’s brown leather recliner, big enough to fit myself and two cousins in. My favorite memory involves the nights we were allowed to pile into the bed on the sleeping porch. After hearing stories of the farm and the river pirates, we’d be tucked in under layers of quilts and blankets. In the morning we’d wake up to the sounds of birds right near the screens and be called in for breakfast. It was magical –the child equivalent to peaceful.
I have to say, I haven't thought about this side of my family (my father's side) in such a long time that these memories came as a pleasant surprise. Like finding an old photograph or object you weren't aware that you'd been missing. This article, although it was about literal houses, reminded me that memories can be left intact if you're willing to keep your emotions and unfortunate discoveries about people from ruining those special moments. Every family has its secrets. Perhaps I should learn to accept the past for what it is and remember the good times without interference. Perhaps I'll be able to take these memories and these cherished pieces of old houses and bring them through life with me; a walking tribute to perserverance.
The House That Built Me - Miranda Lambert
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQYNM6SjD_o
بيع و شراء اثاث مستعمل
ReplyDeleteتسليك مجاري
خدمات تنظيف
خدمات عزل
دهانات و ترميمات
كشف تسربات
مكافحة حشرات
نقل اثاث