I walked the dog through my parents’ neighborhood yesterday, trying to remember which families lived where. I passed by my childhood friend Corrie’s house, and thought about the fun we used to have there and how we made prank calls once to ask people if their refrigerator was running and if so, they better go catch it.
My parents still live in the same house where I spent (almost) my entire childhood. The neighborhood pool is down at the end of the street and all the schools I went to are within walking distance. This includes my middle school, which is literally across the street. I marvel at the cute, outdoor benches that were not there when I was in 6th-8th grade.
Some things around here have changed but many have not. My father’s 1970 gold Chevy still sits by the curb, rusted in parts and with a bent front bumper. The popcorn ceiling in the house still hovers over our heads as we sit and talk in the living room with the t.v. on in the background. There’s probably an episode of Jeopardy, or a Hallmark movie on. The framed photos of grandchildren get swapped out occasionally as they continue to grow.
My parents have changed many things inside their home. They opened up the kitchen, put in hardwood floors in some areas and painted rooms different colors. My old bedroom is now my father’s home office, cluttered with his things and no longer “mine” for over 20 years. Long gone is the frilly-quilted twin bed that I laid in so many nights, laden with scads of stuffed animals.
Coming home feels a little different me for me now, but is still the same in some ways too. Much like my parents’ house, there have been a few pretty important interior changes for me. I am innately the same person I have always been. I have “good bones” as they say. Yesterday, while talking at the house, my 16-year old nephew looked around and said, “this house would make a good fixer-upper.” I guess I kind of feel a little like a fixer-upper myself lately. It’s as if I am in a bit of a self-remodel. Once finished, I plan to be pretty happy with the end result and I hope others will be as well.
Ben and my mom making apple pie together
Still writing for #NaBloPoMo… just a few more days…