As I pulled into the drive a familiar sense of peace mingled with love fell around me calming my world into a sweet melody. The sound of the crunching gravel beneath the tires of the truck. I slowed the truck to a crawl and took in the familiar sights. Grampa's purple orchids growing along the backside of the tool shed, the basement windows, the stump of the old pear tree, the burn pile smoldering at the back end of the property made me almost expect to see Grampa poking around back there. I parked, jumped down from the truck and just as my feet hit the ground I turned and caught a glimpse of the back porch where Gramma and I have spent countless hours over the course of my life time sitting, sometimes deep in conversation, sometimes surrounded simply by eachothers presence and the peacefulness of nothing. I stood there for only a few moments drinknig in the feast of memories my senses were experiencing.
As I walked up the porch steps I noticed they still creak in all the same places, I miss Grammas chair. The dumpster on the side of the porch assaults my tender memories but is necessary for the chores of this day. I open the door and smile at the small detail that has always been...their door opens backwards to any other door I have ever entered...funny...
Then it hit me. Like a wall. Stopped me dead in my tracks. I closed my eyes, took a slow deep breath, and stood there completely still for several minutes. The smell of Gramma's house. A thought flashed through my mind...wonder if it would be possible to bottle up the smell of Gramma's house and keep it forever. I would open it on my tough days when all I needed was one of our porch talks. It would bring all the love and comfort I would ever need. Standing there just inside the door I could feel her arms wrapping around me. I could see grampa lying on the floor with the fly swatter in hand, resting.
As I slowly meander through the house it looks so different now that all the familiar furnishings are gone. I giggle at the small details I would of never missed, that somehow people have left behinde. The hallway of memories, by the door hanging on the wall are picture frames of family memebers each one present in photo form.
I notice other things remain and some are missing. A sadness comes over me. Although I feel their presence...it seems wrong for people to be wandering about the house when Gramma is not here. I notice one uncle still has his shoes on and chuckle silently to myself as I look at my sock covered feet. Even today I take my shoes off at the door.
As we sit on the floor sifting through the small moments that when added together create the lives and love and legacy that is my heritage I am overwhelmed by gratefullness for all they have given to me. I am not speaking of monetary giftings...wisdom, faith, unconditional love are the gifts I have recieved from my grand parents. These are the same gifts I desire to pass on to my children. I find small treasures a golden compact engraved with my grandmothers name "Edythe Kellogg" I hold it gently in my hand and try to imagine what she was like when she was young and courting Grampa...and I smile again.
This day was filled with moments just like these. Finding great grandmas quilting boxes, an old family Bible, grampas baseballs and golf balls and ties...grammas rubberbands...a box of valentines from 1954 to billy and dickie and jack...
When the day was done and I was stepping into the truck to leave a thought crossed my mind....my family legacy lies within the walls of this old house I pray God will find a way for us to keep it in the family...just being here I can feel the walls are saturated with years of unconditional love that has taught me how to live...I am so grateful for the precious gift I recieved.