Not going home.

I am thinking about going to home coming.  I don’t know why.  There is nobody there for me anymore. I have not been back home in over 10 years.   Maybe that is what I need to see,  that everyone is gone.  Here is what I thought I would do.  I would rent a car. Drive up after work, go watch the game.  Maybe drive by my parents old house.  Walk around and see if I could find any thing on that empty lot.  Maybe a penny, some thing to remind me that we once existed there.  Maybe its all gone.  If they tore down the house, they probably bull dozed the lot. This was the second place I remember living. It was across town from the Old house. 

I remember as a kid, I would play  under the big cedar trees out front.  When we first moved there, the trees were to big that you could not see the front of the house.  My dad had to cut them from underneath. So that you could walk under them.   I remember seeing all of the stubs that remained.  There were two large trees on both sides of the sidewalks.  It was a shot gun house.  My uncles were the ones who fixed the house up before we moved in.  My dad had bought the house and put work into making it livable.  The front rooms were bare floors and full of wood.  There were two front doors.  I think at one point the house was two separate buildings.  They were put together to make the house bigger.  I  wish it still existed so I could see if I am right.  The rear of the house had double windows, quite different from the rest of the house.  This addition included a bed room, bath room, and kitchen.  Our house was built probably in the 20’s. The wood framed windows were dingy and yellowed. Many had to be replaced because they were cracked.  They fixed the floors, re wired they house. They also put paneling and moldings to cover the bare walls.  They also expanded the door ways so that you could pass from one room to the other with out going through the narrow door ways. They also made closets where there were none.  Each panel door was old and closed with old latches.  These would remain, but never locked. There was only one bathroom.  It was old, but worked.  I remember how the house smelled when we first bought it. It had been closed up for so long.  It was like moving into someplace odd.  The entire yard was over grown, the buildings that came with the property, were all abandoned.  I always wondered what happened to the old man that lived there before us.  I assumed he died. I think he old lived in the back of the house.  It had the newest paneling, nice carpet, and the rest of the house was closed off.  The kitchen had been up dates and was in useable condition, even thought the pipes were old.  My parents worked for weeks on the house, them moved us in.  Originally, my parents wanted the far back room to be the boys room. The girls would share the front bedroom and my parents would take the middle room.  That did not happen.  My parents took the back bedroom. Their excuse was they did want to disturb e whole house because my dad always got up early. I think my parents just wanted the room closest to the bath room.  We never had blinds.  We only had curtains.  Blinds were foreign and so was central heat and air.  During ht e summer we slept under fans. Even when the night time heat did not fall below the high nineties. It was rough. 

During the winter, we froze with only a Dearborn heater and the heat from the kitchen stove.  We would some times sleep in our clothes to keep us warmer.  In winter we would put plastic on the windows.  My mom would buy plastic sheeting  kits.  It would come with clear plastic window plastic, cardboard strips and small nails to hang the plastic.  We would use a staple gun. It was faster then the small nails. The plastic helped to hold the heat in the house and keep the draft out. Old wooden windows were often drafty.   I have memories of helping my mom put on the plastics and tearing the strips as she stapled them on.  She would stand on a milk create and I would hand her the strips.

It’s interesting what I remember as I was writing this.  My mom, could do anything. She could make anything, she was very creative.  And I was there to share in the adventures.  I decided not to go back home.  I guess it is not my home anymore.  I was missing my parents and thought some how a trip would ease that feeling. I think it is ok to remember but I don’t need to go back. It’s been too long.  It is not my home any more.