385 – You CAN Go Home Again!

Sorry for the break in my Europe story, but I had a pretty unique experience
this weekend I wanted to share with you all.

I grew up in Bristol, Connecticut and until I was 20, I lived in the same
house on Pleasant St. It was my grandmother's house, and it was a 2 family
house that was old, but I never knew exactly how old. Let's just say, the
foundation was stone, not concrete. 

Well, Saturday, I happened to be driving up the street where my old house
was (it's a one-way street too), and I saw the owner outside shining up his
motorcycle.

I took a chance, stopped, and asked if he indeed owned the house, and he
said yes. I told him, I used to live here, grew up here from 1956 through
1976, and it brought back many memories. He asked me if I wanted to see
inside, and I jumped at the chance!

We walked in through a door that was never there when I lived there, into
what used to be my grandmothers house. He had made some changes to the
house, but quite honestly, they were all in impeccable taste. The wide, very
detailed moldings around every door and window were perfectly refinished,
and painted in very old-time colors. He mentioned to me that the house was
built in 1888, and I almost fainted! I told him stories of me sneaking up
from the cellar/basement to steal homemade coffee cake that my grandmother
made and kept in a cabinet that,... wow, was still there! The original
cabinets were still there, though refinished. I felt like I was 10 years old
again.

We couldn't go upstairs where my parents, brother and I lived, as his
daughter lived up there and it was still morning, but we went down into the
basement where at one time, we had a pool table, ping-pong table and lots of
good times with our friends.

He showed me the chalk looking writing on one wall that said "I was here",
and I recognized it as MY handwriting! I can actually remember writing it
too....

He then led me out on to the front porch where he had just sanded, and
marine varnished the whole thing. It was a large porch, overlooking the
street where we lived, and I can remember many a beautiful day rocking in an
old rocking chair on that porch.

I left him at this point as I didn't want to keep him, but thanked him
profusely, and telling him how happy I was that the house was being take
care of by someone as discriminating as him.

Thanks for allowing me to take you back in time with me... to my childhood
home.

I, went home again.

Have a wonderful Monday all!