Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Going Going!

That familiar indefinable lump in the chest…..
     the going away lump,
that had been there when I was a child
     and was uncontrollable now as then.
                              Anne Marrow (Mrs. Charles Lindebergh)


I continue to watch my childhood home disappear in bits and pieces. The new owner Pierre has been trying to salvage the new building materials the previous owners had used to try to fix it up. I see the pile of insulation and two by fours heaped in the middle of what used to be our old kitchen floor.

That cold old tiled floor where our big old wooden kitchen table sat with all us kids sitting around eating the porridge that I grew to hate. The cold lumpy porridge with the lumpy powdered milk on top, that was to be consumed before going to school, my Mother’s voice still stuck in my head screaming in the back ground “You’re going to be late, hurry up”. Remembering forcing that porridge down knowing if you did not eat it, it would be sitting in the same spot waiting for you when you came home for lunch or in some cases of stubbornness supper time.


The same floor that the old cook stove sat taking up most of this tiny room being just about a foot away from the table and you had to slide the chair in to get by. It was warm and you were grateful for the warmth it provided on a cold winter’s day. Remembering that old aluminum kettle boiling and the steam rising to the ceiling. I can still remember the smell of the coffee when Mom and Dad poured that water into their cup.

The same floor where you watched your Mom and Dad smiling at each other and you could see your Dad wink at your Mom, while listening to all us kids, always smiling in spite of what life threw at them. Those constant sounds of whining and complaining about the porridge and not understanding at that time our parents struggles to get that porridge in our bowls, and keeping this old roof over our heads.

I drove around the corner again today in the little village where I grew up knowing that any day the big machine will come and knock the shell of the house to the ground, I find myself obsessively going everyday now to make sure I do not miss that.


I am afraid I am going to miss that. I am afraid I am going to see that.

I turn the corner again today, my heart is racing, and it’s still there. I smile. I will be back tomorrow.

Later.

24 comments:

  1. I don't know if I could watch the slow demolition of my childhood home (not that I really had one), but maybe it will bring closure to you. I find it interesting that even as they are tearing the house down, your memories are coming alive. What an irony!

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  2. So many memories in that old house. That last picture brought a lump to my throat as I thought of all the hours I spent there. As you know you are much stronger then me as I still haven't been able to go see the new house that has been built where my old home was.
    Take care and cherish each memory as it surfaces.

    Love You, BA

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  3. Regardless of what happens to that house it will always live in your memory. You can close your eyes and visit it. You can walk those dear hallways, touch those walls, look through those windows. I know you can because I visit my childhood home which is no longer where it used to be. It lives in me. It will always be there.

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  4. you're torturing yourself, honey.

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  5. I think I'd have mixed feeling too, but would definitely hate to miss it! I'm glad you have the memories!!

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  6. It has been said that one can never go home again and I believe it. I am sorry your childhood home is being demolished. Very sad.

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  7. Keep the memories strong, Buttons. They will continue to live as you share them.

    Watching the physical house go will be hard. The memories of home are what remain important.

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  8. That's got to be scary-sad to see the shell for your early family being taken apart like an autopsyed loved one. I remember the shock of seeing my front lawn ripped open by a backhoe--steam rising from the gash. If we live in a place long enough it becomes as much a part of us as our hands and feet. My sympathies.

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  9. It is sad that you have to see your old homestead being torn down, but what beautiful memories you have.

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  10. i don't really know what to say b, i think i would do the same!!

    are you able to get some of the wood??

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  11. Sending you warm hugs Buttons. It is a grief, seeing your old house torn down, just remember that your 'home' is the people you shared it with and the memories you created together, okay?

    Perhaps you could think of a small 'ceremony' to give yourself closure? Mayhap an interesting bit of wood from the house to use as a place to hold some small candles? Then when you are missing the house or the people who shared it with you, you can light the candles to remind yourself of the brightness of those days?

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  12. Wow, I really, really like Jacqueline's suggestion and to remember that "home" is the people, not the place! {{HUGS}}

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  13. You got to my heart with this one-not wanting to miss the final demolition, yet not wanting to see it either. I feel that way about all old buildings, and if it had been my childhood home it would be so mixed with emotion.

    I agree with the others here who have suggested you get a piece of wood. Along with those memories you have, it would be something to cherish.

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  14. Wow, that has to be a hard thing to witness. But it's good to remember how happy you were in the house. :)

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  15. You have your beautiful memories and that is what stays with you.

    I have an ache in my heart reading your words. But time will help and you will feel peace. xx

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  16. You've got me aching for a place I've never known. Your words make your home our home, and your memories, our memories. So many of us have had to go through the same agony of helplessly watching the tangible remnants of our childhoods go away... both the people, and the places. I reckon it's part of life, but that doesn't make it any easier. Great writing.

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  17. last year we were evicted from the home of my childhood. my mother wasn't well and she forgot to pay the rent. while I was living it I thought I was losing something from my past. but then I realized no one can take away my memories and that home is where the ones I love are. I hope you find a way to say goodbye in peace sweetie. warm hug. xxo

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  18. Once again your post brought sad memories to mind about our old homestead.
    The scenes you described seemed all to familiar. The wood burning cook stove and the hard times our parents endured back in the day...but we were oblivious, weren't we?

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  19. It is just a material thing. You will always have your memories.

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  20. I know it must be hard to watch. I got so sad when they tore down the old barn where I grew up riding horses. I know it's just a building, but it sure is full of memories.

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  21. I remember the last time I went to visit the old cottage I grew up in. The old newspapers still lined the walls for warmth and the lino was all tatty and yellowed with age. I also think about the school mornings, polishing my boots and listening to 'Biggles' on the radio. Mmmm.... that was only yesterday!! I must think about blogging about those times. Maa

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  22. I know what your heart is going through. The last time I went to NY I found that my Grandma's treasure glass greenhouse had succumbed to an ice load and was gone. It broke my heart. And the farm house is dipping in the middle. It has needed to be jacked up and a new foundation installed for 40 years. Now a marble set on the floor will run to the center... so sad.

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  23. I always told my girls - "no matter what happens, home is right here, in your heart"

    Home is in your heart, always, Buttons.

    hugs to you always ((((buttons)))

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  24. Oh heck B., what a mixture of emotions for you.
    I love how you can relate those happy moments between your parents.

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The mind grows by what it feeds on. J.G. Holland

Thank you so much for your comments, they mean more to me then I could ever express. Hug B

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