At the risk of turning into a pillar of salt I took a final tour around the old Homer Homestead on Royal Lane the First of November. Charlie Johnson was using the old shell as part of his annual "Spook Alley" for the grandkids. They say you can't go back, but walking around the skeleton of that old house the memories do take you back. I remembered the rooms I lived in, Sheila's and then Janelle's room that was fit for a princess, and mom and dad's suite of rooms. I remembered watching TV in the upstairs playroom and leaning against the wall as I curved down the stairs to the front door. I looked out the back window of my old bedroom, remembering the great pick-up games we had on that basketball court--we would play for hours, late into the night, even when our breath showed in the winter. If the court was free of snow, we were playing. And I can't forget all those great family dinners on the deck in back and in the dining room.
It's odd--I remembered family activities, holiday decorations, dinners, wrestling with brothers, and things that were so full of life and fun and now I was standing there in these rooms with absolutely nothing going on. And even though I only lived here as a kid for only a few months before heading off to college, mission, etc., this was always a place I would come "home" to. Despite what has happened to it, the house was nice, no doubt about it, but what I remember is the home that mom and dad made out of that house. As I stood there in that empty house with the breeze blowing and the moon shining and the Robinson's dog barking, I wasn't standing in our old house--in my mind I was really standing in the memories of our old home. And that won't ever be torn down.
At the risk of turning into a pillar of salt I took a final tour around the old Homer Homestead on Royal Lane the First of November. Charlie Johnson was using the old shell as part of his annual "Spook Alley" for the grandkids. They say you can't go back, but walking around the skeleton of that old house the memories do take you back. I remembered the rooms I lived in, Sheila's and then Janelle's room that was fit for a princess, and mom and dad's suite of rooms. I remembered watching TV in the upstairs playroom and leaning against the wall as I curved down the stairs to the front door. I looked out the back window of my old bedroom, remembering the great pick-up games we had on that basketball court--we would play for hours, late into the night, even when our breath showed in the winter. If the court was free of snow, we were playing. And I can't forget all those great family dinners on the deck in back and in the dining room.
2 comments:
What a great post! I also had a lot of great memories in that house. I can't believe it is gone. At least they can't demolish memories .... right?!?
Again, perfect writing Keith. I loved the part where you said you were standing in your memories.. And that's sooo true,,, you were the last one to go through there to actually see the memories. Now we really do only have memories as it is no longer in existence. Our room was awesome.. huge closets,, I loved spying on your parties from the back bedroom window,, I was always so sneaky (I thought) I just wished that I were older so I could be out there with you guys. Did you kind of have an empty feeling in your heart standing there imagining the wrestling, decorations,, because they no longer exist in that house? I remember the last time I went through the house before we sold it to the first people, I felt that way... anyways, glad you were able to film it one last time!
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