Not really mine, I didn't live with them. We (my brother and I) lived in Houston with our mom and had several houses that were all fine with lovely memories of their own. My dad lived in Silsbee, Texas, and there were a couple of houses there that we called home in the summers. But nothing can compare to how I felt about my grandparent's house.
It was our rock, the place we could count on to always be there and never change. I mean never change. My grandfather added on a greenhouse and converted the front porch to his study, but other than that everything remained. The dark paneling, the long heavy drapes, the huge backyard, even the kitchen was state of the art for 1947! Every family holiday was there, cookouts, sleepovers. Their house was 2 blocks from my high school and every school morning I would get dropped off there and hang out with my grandparents until it was time to walk to school. I loved that place.
Houston had grown a LOT from 1947 to 1900 and my grandparents, in their 80's, were ready for a quieter life style. They sold the house to a family who promptly razed it and built a small mansion. Even now, I'll drive down Pine Street and wish I could see that house.
Copyright (c) 2013, Family at Your Fingertips, Jodi Bash