Sep 26, 2011

A Growing History



Five Minute Friday

In case you missed it last week, I'm linking up to The Gypsy Mama for the weekly visceral assignment of writing for five unadulterated minutes on the given prompt.

This week's word: GROWING
Five minutes on the clock...

GO!

Last year my mom fulfilled her dream. Actually, our dream. She bought her first house. But not just any house. She bought a one hundred year old house in a small New England town. You could have pinched us because it all felt like a dream.

We moved into the house with the red door last November & began to leave our fingerprints in its history. We are only the fourth family that has walked its halls.

I love that this house has a heartbeat. It has a growth chart if you will. Instead of measuring its advancing years with notches on the side of a door frame, its growth is tallied by all the footsteps on the weathered wooden floors, all the conversations spoken within its walls, all the trips up & down the staircase, all the flowers that bloom in their own good time every season, all the leaves that crunch under our boots as we toss a Frisbee to Rocky in the backyard, all the smells that permeate from the kitchen into the nooks & crannies of its frame.

My mom’s house will never stop growing. It will always be maturing; becoming ever more golden (& achy at the joints) with age. To the neighbors in that small town, after all these decades it’s still referred to as the old Wilson house. To me, it’s home. Though I've moved away, the red door is always open for me.

DONE!

In last week's Five Minute Friday, I referred to Sara (AKA Gitzen Girl). After running a beautiful race in this life, she is now dancing pain free in paradise. This post is dedicated to her memory.

I speak of home as a place to which you can always return. In reading some of Sara's older posts, I stumbled across one where she dreamt of her father shortly after he passed away.
 I ask you to invite her spirit into your day by reading "Homesick".
I smiled with joy at the thought of Sara's return; not only to her home but to her father's embrace.