I spent the Christmas holidays helping my grandparents pack up the house they lived in for the past 58 years as my Grandpa's health has been declining and they could no longer take care of the place. I was there again this past weekend, picking up some items to bring back to my house and for my sister. The house I grew up in was sold when I was 13 after my parents divorced, my grandparents sold their cottage in 2008 that my Grandpa had built 38 years prior, this was the last place that I could walk into and go all the way back. I know change is inevitable, I accept that, but I'm going to miss that house, and that feeling more than anything. Wrote this on the drive home yesterday.
Last time in this house
So many things
All put in their place
Only to be abandoned
Wondering where everyone went
What happened to the hustle and bustle
Now still
Silent
Kept only warm enough so the pipes don't freeze
A flood of memories can't be stopped though
It's inevitable for anyone who sees this place like this
Who has been here before
In another time
Another pace
A place that can't be returned to
But is held tightly
Good. Bye.
That's a hard thing to achieve when you really don't want to go
At least we're not kicking and screaming
At least not on the surface
Cracks are showing
Heavy sighs like the release of trapped steam from a geyser
There's a lot going on under there
This place has dignity
It's so proud
Classic
Classy
Humble
More stories in it than all these piles of books in boxes
You could drive right past it and never know
But I know.
And I know, as I walk out the door
That that's all I'll be able to do from now on
I'm packing one extra box
Doesn't weigh anything
I'm filling it with that smell
That feeling
Of knowing who you are when you walk down the stairs to the basement
The sound of the clock chimes every hour
The greetings at the side door
And the waves from the window when you leave
Honk the horn as you round the corner
And try to make it as good as a bye can be
