My Grandmother's Home

Yesterday, a golden autumn day, my sister took my parents and my grandmother on a round trip drive of nearly 400 miles to visit the relatives and to see the home my grandmother sold last year.

Nan lived there from the time she was first married in 1931 until she was 94 years old. That's a span of nearly 74 years. Homes can become living breathing things after much shorter spans so it was no surprise that Nan grieved the loss of her home. She grieved to the point of becoming ill. She grieves to the point of telling us that she'll buy the home back so that it can be cared for properly.

You see, whoever bought the home has left it empty. The lawn is not mowed, no lights shine out through the windows, no curtains hang.

Personally, I find it quite charming yet. (We won't talk about that ancient siding.) I don't even become offended by the overgrown lawn. The purple wildflowers blooming there are attractive enough.

My grandfather planted those maples in the sixties. My how they have grown! He just walked out into the woods one day, chose three sturdy maples, lopped off their tops, dug up the root balls, and planted them with lots of tender care. The first branches came out where the trees had been topped off and they went on to become what you see in the picture.

I hope that visiting her house will ease Nan's mind. It's still there. It will surely be loved again. We can no more cling to our homes than we can to any other possession. It will be okay.