An address, a house I knew. One I wasn’t expecting to see. One that provided an emotional sock to the gut. I was messing around on Trulia the other day and the house I saw, the house that is going to be auctioned with a starting bid of $20,000 is Grandma and Grandpa’s house. The same house that Mom and her brother grew up in. I can still remember attempting my first ever sleeping somewhere other than my room and my bed there. It didn’t go well. I remember making cookies with Grandma, and playing around with her carpet sweeper. The dinner we had in the basement when Mom finally decided that the stupid special diet the doctor’s had me on wasn’t making a difference and I could eat whatever. I remember when Grandma said I should give up Bobby, and to this day I still have that raggedy, one-eyed teddy bear. Going over with Mom and just visiting. Playing on the swingset and not eating the crab apples because they aren’t good for us. Grandma growing corn and my brother and I playing around outside.
I also remember after Grandma died, Grandpa got together with a friend of theirs who had lost her husband several years prior. And eventually she moved in with Grandpa. Yet nothing in the house really changed. Sure Ladyfriend brought her own furniture, so some of that changed. The back bedroom became more Ladyfriend’s room with her jewelry and stuff (and to this day, I can remember thinking that it was some gaudy jewelry). But the bones of the house never changed. The decor stayed the same. We always walked in the side door and into the kitchen. They always had the little table in the dining area and I was never quite sure how four people managed to eat in that tiny spot; even though I’ve experienced it myself. And when Grandpa and Ladyfriend got a place in Florida and became snowbirds, I stayed at the house my senior year of high school and still, nothing changed.
Until it got sold. I was shocked to see the listing and I couldn’t resist going through the pictures. I know that when people move into a house they want to make it their own, they want paint colors they like or to knock out a wall here, replace the kitchen, make over the bathroom. I understand that, yet I wasn’t prepared to see all of the changes that were revealed in the pictures. I was surprised to see almost all of the kitchen re-done with a sliding door in place of the window that used to hold Grandma’s suncatcher. And suddenly there’s a doorway leading into the living room. The bathroom isn’t the same anymore, and the basement has new walls. I think a part of me somehow thought that no matter what, Grandma and Grandpa’s place would never change.