Do you have one of those places that no matter how long you’ve been gone, returning just feels like home. The surrounding geography gets you excited and homesick. Your heart can’t decide on whether to beat fast or slow and a pit creeps into your stomach.
Is that just me?
That place for me is my parent’s old house out in the country. They sold it two years ago and at first I was okay; really, I was! It’s just a house, it’s the memories that are most important, we have so many pictures and videos of that house—were all things I kept telling myself. But it gets harder and harder lately to let go of it!
When I’m in the surrounding area where my parent’s house was, I get unbelievably sad. I turn on my saddest music and mope and sometimes cry. Especially when the seasons start to turn, that’s when our house was the most beautiful!
Our house was the fourth house on the right on our street; and it sat at the bottom of a hill. There was a long driveway that we used to race our bikes down for hours when we were kids. Behind our home was 100+ acres of woods; as children we would spend hours out there, picking wild blackberries, playing make believe, dressed up like princesses. When we got older, we would either film “movies” or have photoshoots.
In the colder months, we would have friends over and gather around the fire pit for smores and bratwurst. On those nights, my favorite was to lay down in the grass by the fire pit and look up at the stars. One night it particular, we sat around the fire, making up a story; each person could only say 7 words and everyone sat in a circle, taking turns telling a hilarious, ghost story.
Our house had a wide open feel to it, perfect for entertaining people–my parents were so good at hospitality, we always had people over. There was a basement, where I lived when I was a teenager and it was home to so many sleepovers and friend time! Me and my sisters and a lot of our friends swore that the spare room in the basement was haunted. Every one said they got a weird feeling when they walked in….not to mention, it had a creepy rocking chair in it.
I wish you could see the way our house looked in the fall. There were so many trees in our yard that my poor dad spent most weekends just trying to keep up with cleaning up leaves. The air had a constant tinge of bonfire smoke in it during those months.
You could always tell when the seasons were changing by the bugs at night; during the summer and spring, all the crickets, cicadas, tree frogs and assorted insects were singing this song so loud that it was almost deafening! But you always knew when fall was coming because one night, it would just be dead silent. That night, it was always hard for me to fall asleep and I could never tell why until I realized how quiet it was.
I know this is kind of rambly, but as fall is sort of creeping in around these parts, my heart goes back to the sweet memories of my old house and I wanted to share it with you.
What places do you miss?