I have so many memories of breaking beans with my granny in this house, and this morning I broke beans with my baby girl in the same kitchen. Three generations have passed from my granny’s, and we’re still doing the same thing. I love how God gives us just enough continuity to be able to deal with the change that life throws at us. I also love the memories evoked by living in this house. It may look different now, but it feels the same. It feels like home. Every now and then, I have a familiar feeling rush over me as I walk through the house, and I’m five years old again. I’m spending my Friday night at my granny’s house. I’m here for Thanksgiving dinner. I’m just sitting with her and breaking beans (which I probably didn’t appreciate as a kid…)
As a married couple, we’ve lived in several different places, but none have felt so much like home to me as this house does. The sounds of birds and smells of the flowers in the yard are familiar. My heart is at rest here. I was so unsure about taking on this house. Every time I walked in after granny passed away, I cried. I couldn’t imagine living in this place that made me so sad. But, as time passed, I started to see it in a new light. The sadness turned to fondness, and with the promise of major changes to the inside aesthetic, I finally agreed that this house might make the best home for us. I’m so very glad that my heart finally caught up with my head, because this is home. This is a place that I can share memories with my family, just like I’ve always done here.
coffeemamabogie 