Closing the Book of my Childhood...

Growing up I went to my Nana and Papa's house frequently. She would keep us weeks at a time in the summers. Nana was for a grandmother but also didn't take any back talk or attitude. When I was 10 years old, I moved in with Nana and Papa. My room was downstairs, without a door and had the washer and dryer in the room. Eventually they put on saloon like doors for a little privacy. I lived there until I turned 13. Big years living with your grandparents. Vital years really, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I always felt connected to my Nana. We were a lot a like. I still wonder what she would think of me now and how I turned out.

I would help around the property, help plant cactus (and laugh hysterically together after because we were so sweaty and gross), helped feed the animals, water the trees, water the plants, ride my bike all the time. I actually played out doors every day. Sometimes I was allowed to eat ice cream for dinner when no one wanted to cook.

My Papa was my alarm clock. He would wake me up every morning for school. He would drive me to the bus stop and wait with me until it came. He would take me to my dentist appointments. He would make fires in the fireplace, always made the best fires. I would call them Papa fires. He would make breakfast. My favorite was always his biscuits and gravy (prior to my vegetarian lifestyle). When my mom was visiting, we would end up in Nana and Papa's bed talking, laughing, requesting Papa to bring us our coffee (in a whiny voice) and sure enough he would deliver.

Their house was home. For 33 years I have been going down to their property that I still refer to as Nana and Papa's and very soon it will no longer be a part of my life. I had never imagined not ever going down there. Losing my Papa recently has opened to the door to the reality of losing a piece of my childhood. Closing the door to a huge part of my past that connects me to everyone I have lost. It's a big deal for the whole family. We all have a connection to that property. We all have our own memories, our own stories, our own history with the property. I am going to miss my Papa and I am going to miss the house. Never easy saying goodbye....