Funny, I realized after typing those words that they have a million different meanings. Today it means my cousin and I have been working on an appeal to re-zone our Grandparents home and the land on which it rests. I have been tryiong to get all my other cousins to send letters to show Gramma how important their home has been to us all over the years. I am a bit disappointed that more chose not to write than chose to write. However....Gramma will be so very blessed by the love that has been recorded for her on the pages that will soon become her book but for now will save her home...here is the letter I wrote...
According to the dictionary a home is a place of residence or refuge. To many people a home is merely a place where you eat and sleep. Reside. When I think of home, I think of Gramma and Grampa's home. Always a place of refuge. For me and for many. No matter where life led, I always knew Gramma and Grampa would be there sitting on the porch waiting to greet me with a hug and quick kiss. My life as a child and teenager was never consistent. But, Gramma and Grampa were always there, the only constant in my ever changing world. No matter where our next move took us, California or New Jersey the memories of the first 12 years with Gramma and Grampa went with me. I was always homesick for their house and all the familiar smells, the ticking of the old clock on the mantle and the creaking of the floor boards. No one ever understood how much a rotten pear tree, an old ragged doll house and playing colored eggs on the front stoop meant to me.
Sunday dinners in Grammas living room, stealing olives before prayer, the family prayer recited in unison by what seemed like 50 people, Gramma cooking, her sons cleaning the kitchen after each meal, Grampa's stash of chocolate safely hidden in the bottom drawer of the fridge, the candy dish that was always full, Holidays, Birthdays, fishing with Grampa, cleaning strawberries with Gramma, Homemade ice cream on the back porch, family photos, playing with the cousins. All these memories are mine because of the love Gramma and Grampa poured out onto their family. I have inherited a legacy from them that I will pass onto my children.
The old barn, Grampa's garden, bird cages in the back, Buckwheat the horse, walking beans, husking corn, canning veggies for winter, sneaking into the corn field, picking rhubarb and Gramma giving us a baggie of sugar to dip it in.
When my dad died, it was Gramma and Grampa who encouraged and loved me. It was their home I came back to. I wanted my child to know the kind of love I was raised around. Grampa began the same tradition with Dominique as he had with my brothers. (boys don't waste time going indoors to use the bathroom) are you silly? What he forgot to tell Dominique is that when you live inside the city limits you need to go indoors before you drop your drawers. Watching Dominique and Grampa tend to the trash fire and many other outdoor chores told me we were home and my child would be showered in all the same love I had been. My babies have learned to crawl and to walk in that living room. When ever we had exciting things to share it was their home we went to first.
As an adult I have spent many hours sitting on the porch talking with Gramma, her wisdom and love shared with me has taught me how to be a Godly woman after her very heart. As in all families we have shared sadness and tears on the same porch we shared our dreams. After my dad died and again after Grampa died, we all gathered there, as adults this time, celebrating the love that was gifted to us and mourning the man who gave.
Grampa may have had a growl and he may have made us remove our shoes before we entered the house, but you always knew he was glad you came and wanted you to stay. Even if he spent half your visit napping on the floor with his fly swatter in his hand resting across his forehead.
Unconditional love was concieved, born and bred within the walls of that house, wrapped and given as a gift to the next generation, mine, to nurture, bless, multiply and pass onto the next generation, our children and onto theirs. Grammas house is the blessing of a legacy of love that represents all that is right, pure, perfect and true to all who walk there.
The walls of that home hold memories and stories of the Van Cleave family for 64 years. The legacy must continue. We must pass this onto our children so they can know how much love there was in the beginning of it all. Home will always be Gramma and Grampa's place to me. A place of refuge from all life's storms. A place of unconditional love poured out over all who entered the doors.
