My mother’s house is very still now. Once it rang with the sounds of children laughing and playing, sounds of cooking and cleaning.
There was a piano on each floor—basement, first, second—so that three of us could all practice at once. That was a remarkable chaos.
Now the only sounds are my and Nola’s quiet footsteps, our soft breathing, and the occasional gentle cracking and creaking a house will make.
This house is where we have gathered for weddings, birthdays, and holidays. On happy family gatherings we’d pull out my mother’s china and silver, my grandmother’s tablecloth, my great-grandmother’s hand-painted. We’d congregate at the great harvest table to celebrate our joy and good fortune.
In the larder there’s still an unopened bottle of terrible bar scotch left over from a sister’s wedding more than thirty years ago.
My sisters grew up here. One of my sister’s children grew up here.
This house needs a new family to love it and grow in it and be happy in it. Otherwise it is our fear that the house where my mother lived for 50 years will be destroyed and all that will remain are our pictures and the memories we hold and someday those, too, will fade and vanish.
Word is spreading! I feel certain that new life will come and a new family will enjoy the pleasures and comforts of our beloved WB.
Remember: wherever family gathers in love and fellowship—that’s Winding Brook. Whereever a nice warm fire and candlelight burns brightly, that’s Winding Brook. Wherever nature surrounds the home in its beauty, that’s Winding Brook.
We’ve got each other, and more beautiful memories to be made. mom would want that! Thanks for the beautiful post. Mom always called it Camelot, (more accurately St. Louis in general, I think…) and broke into the refrain….”the rain will never fall ’till after sundown….by 9 am the fog will disappear….in truth there’s simply not, a more congential spot, etc.” love ann
A post like this is priceless. I have commented in the past that one of the aspects of this blogsite that I appreciate is the willingness of its proprietor to divulge personal matters. I guess it creates a sense of community in an otherwise cold cyberworld devoted mostly to the intense political issues of the day. It has encouraged me, from time to time, to do the same.
I suspect such posts are cathartic, Dave, and would humbly advise you to continue them. I also strongly suspect that the visitors to this site will be appreciative, understanding and completely supportive……even as they find themselves strangely suspended out here in the ether.
Amen….
funny how ‘houses’ can be worth their weight in gold, especially for children; my daughter and I came back every summer from Germany and stayed with mom. When she downsized and sold the house, my daughter was devastated, as if a part of her world was suddenly gone.
but I wonder, if this prevented future heartbreak…
So your Camelot is lost, but now, new ones are made…
The last time I drove away from Winding Brook on my own I was thinking in my silly young head that I would rather see #7 destroyed, just so that I would not have to find another family living happily in the old home. I am so ashamed of this thought. But that’s life.
When I returned to Milwaukee my downstairs neighbor picked me up from the airport. He’s studying for his PhD in clinical psychology. I asked for some professional advice. He told me that I have to let myself feel what I feel.
So, while I’m ashamed, I let that feeling pass. And now there are new ones and still there are old ones but I’m trying my best to let myself feel them all.
Thank you, Uncle David. After the holidays are over I think I will either drive or take the train down to visit you. I miss you all already.
Did I mention that I attended a small concert at the Irish Cultural Heritage Center, and that the flutist soloed the hymn that the Father led us in during grandma’s funeral? I used that time to cry. Thank God for music.
And thank God for family too.