Visiting the House I Grew Up In

So this was posted (by me, of course) to Twitter a day or two ago:

https://twitter.com/Burnsland/status/689086171104833539

Back before I was born (So we are talking about 20 years ago, right? No? Aw, man!), my parents bought a house. And that house was the house I came home from the hospital to when I was born (25 years ago? No?). A few years later, we moved to Nashville for around a year and a half, but we eventually moved back to that same house.

Not too long after Laura and I got married (I’ll stop guessing how many years ago now), my parents moved out of that house, and Laura and I moved in after spending our first few months as a married couple living in an apartment. When Laura and I moved to our current house, my grandparents moved into that house. So as you can see, that house has quite a bit of family history.

Now, my grandfather passed away a few years ago, and my grandmother has moved into an apartment near my aunt and my cousin and her family. So now we are going through the things that are left in that house, and that was the reason for our recent visit.

When we drove up in the driveway, Laura said, “Each time we come here it’s like coming home again.” And it is. In some ways. And even these days on some occasions when I think of “home,” my mind first pictures that house before it corrects itself and jumps to the house we live in now.

I will admit that the original tweet posted above was a little vague, only giving a slight bit our history with the house, making it sound like I hadn’t been there since I grew up, which you can see from the above isn’t true. But the nature of the post prompted the same question on both Twitter and Facebook: “Did it seem smaller than you remembered it?”

As you might expect, since I grew up into adulthood at that house (assuming I am now actually an adult), I don’t see the house just as a child would have seen it, because of the gradual changes of time. Sort of like when you see your child all the time and don’t notice that he is growing, but someone else who hasn’t seen him in a couple of years goes on and on about how much taller he is now. You don’t notice it when you are there all the time.

However, for some strange reason I do remember the back yard being bigger that it is, which is strange because it has always been there, too, just like the rest of the house. But I can remember playing baseball and kickball in that yard, thinking it was really big. And when I look back at it now, I wonder how it seemed to be so big at the time. Interesting how that works for the yard and not for the inside of the house. But anyway.

That house will most likely be sold sometime in the not too distant future. And I’m okay with that. I won’t be overly sad and mopey because someone else will be living in my childhood home. That’s just the nature of things.

But I do still have fond memories of that house, and of all the people who have lived there. And I probably always will.

A house is built by wisdom, and it is established by understanding; by knowledge the rooms are filled with every precious and beautiful treasure. - Proverbs 24:3-4

The Expanded Tweets posts expand on a short post on Twitter (or, a tweet), because 140 characters isn’t always enough to tell the whole story.