Yesterday I took a trip down memory lane. I was invited by the current owners to see my great-grandmother's house. It had been twenty-eight years since my grandparents sold it, following Granny's death, but stepping back into it brought back memories.
I had forgotten about the little built in bookshelf in the front room. This was where Granny's chair sat, and she spent hours doing needlework. I wonder how many pairs of slippers she crocheted over the years. The walls are a white now. Then, Granny preferred green. I remembered the fireplace, the curve out counter in the kitchen, the little step up into the bedroom closet that leads to the attic, The pink bathtub and sink with the little metal towel bar, and that under the stairs in the garage was where she stored the food she canned every summer. But there were many things I'd forgotten. Things like, the built in closets in the bedrooms, the front portch color that shows through the chips in the current paint color, and the stairs to the garage. These are that were the same as my grandmother's house (Granny's daughter), which makes perfect sense since both houses were built by the same carpenters during the same time period.
The current owners rent out the house to young couples, and sometimes families. It's a good place to start a life. I think Granny would be pleased.
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