This picture is of the house I spent most of my life in. My great grandmother's parents lived in this house and 6 generations of my family lived here. Looking at the picture fills me with so many memories and makes me sad that it is no longer in our family. I am typing this getting very emotional thinking about strangers living in "our house".
My great great grandparents were the first in our family (that I know of) that lived here. The part of the house on the right was shipped from Nantucket over to this part of the Cape and it served as a store. The part of the house that is on the left was moved from a couple of streets away to the spot that I always knew it to be. The back of the house had a barn that my great great grandfather used for his cooper business. I remember being told that he would roll the barrels he made down the street to the ocean for the boats that needed them. (The house was walking distance to the ocean).
My great grandmother and her sister were raised here. My grandmother was raised here. My mother and uncle were raised here. I spent most of my childhood/teenage years here. My daughter also lived here for a while.
I learned to play the guitar when I was twelve years old sitting on the porch. I would strum away for hours. Thirty five years later I still have the same guitar!
When I look at this picture I can remember the smells of my great grandmother's cooking. I can remember the feel of the doors opening. I remember sharing a room with my sister and then finally being allowed to move to the upstairs. My great grandmother wasn't too sure of the safety of the upstairs so I was only allowed to have a cot up there to sleep on. I didn't care, it was my own room!! I remember one winter it was so cold and windy that when the wind blew the window it left enough room for the snow to creep in!
I remember when we lost that big tree in the front yard during a hurricane I cried! I remember playing under that tree and the ones in the back yard thinking how wonderful it was that my great grandfather had planted them.
I remember sitting in the front room on Sunday's after church watching Shirley Temple movies while my great grandmother prepared the big Sunday meal. I remember the pies she made would sit on top of the kerosene stove in the front room. By the time our meal was over it would be nice and warm. I still like to make a big Sunday dinner to this day. I think it is a feeling of comfort I get remembering how special I thought they were as a child.
Oh, I have so many memories I could go on and on but I don't want to bore you all.
This house feels like a part of the family to me and I still can't drive by it knowing it's not ours anymore. I dream about this house ALL THE TIME. I dream that there are secret rooms with treasures I never knew about. I guess all the treasures are my memories.