November 17, 2014

Memories Make a Home

"Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor....." says the country song made popular in recent years by the group Lady Antebellum.  I thought I understood those words but not until recently did I truly get their meaning.

You see, in a lifetime there are a whole lot of memories that are gathered and collected, then tucked away neatly in a safe place.  Sometimes you take them out but mostly they are kept in place and not thought much about.

Until faced with them, that is.  The reality of it is, life sometimes presents changes that we just cannot avoid and when facing those circumstances, the memories come pouring out like a hundred-year flood.

Packing up my parent's belongings recently as they plan a move soon from their home of nearly thirty years to smaller apartment living has presented its share of memorable remembrances.  

Such as, I cannot help but remember the same place, exact day and year that I was in the position of unpacking all of these same things and putting them lovingly into place in the home they had just purchased and moved into.  It was so far from any home I remembered, but putting those well-known items into shelves and onto the walls just seemed to make that new environment their own.

And it did.

As the packing days went on, things continued to surface that I hadn't seen for too many years to even contemplate.  Memories.  We found the blueprints to the first (and only) house that they had built when I was but an infant.  That was the first and dearest home that I ever knew and to this day remains indelibly in my heart.

And mom presented me with a box of cards sent to me.  Birthday, Valentine's Day and other special events.  Letters written to me by my grandmother.  Letters I had written to my parents when I was away from them at camp.  She saved all of them all of these years.  Remarkable.

The rose-colored casserole dish that Mom always used to make my favorite hot dish (hamburger and noodles).  The yardstick that we measured our growth.  Stemware that held the first taste of wine on momentous Thanksgiving occasions when we were treated as adults and allowed a small sip of wine with our meal (though we still were seated at the kids' table, I might add).  

Scrapbooks filled with clippings of every sort, all lovingly preserved by our mother.  Files and folders filled with all manner of interesting memorabilia saved and carefully preserved by Dad for one reason or another.  Family history, legacies to be cherished.

These things all surfaced as we prepared for the move that would take them from their home to a new home.   

With them will travel many of these treasures as they settle into their new surroundings. But some of them will be passed on to us, their children, and cherished for our lifetime as well.   

Soon, though, the new place will be home once again, because a home is what you make it and what you put into it.  It is not a building, or a space or a memory.  Home is a place, anywhere, that you have around you in the space in which you live, the things that you love most.

So I will try to remember that as we leave behind a shell of an empty space that used to be home.  Because looking forward there will be a new home that will be filled with warmth, laughter and the occasional tear.  

But mostly, it will be filled with love and new memories.