On a warm spring day, the water of the lake sparkles like billions of tiny diamonds. The trees are tall and thick with big green leaves. And you can often hear birds sing as they pluck juicy blueberries from the bushes on the bank in my backyard. It’s the little things like this that remind me to be thankful for my home. But my home isn’t just a house. It’s a place full of memories, old and new. When I walk through my house I see two different homes; the home of my grandparents and the home where I live now, both places filled with love.
In 1995, my grandma and grandpa built a house on the bank of Ward Lake. They lived there happily until tragedy struck in 2005, when my grandma passed from leukemia. I was young, only eight years old, but it was still so hard to walk through the empty house after she was gone. Every time I stepped in the house, the memories came flooding back to me. In the kitchen I remember making crafts with her that had to be baked in the oven. I also remember watching Disney movies in the family room and throwing stuffed animals down the laundry chute, pretending it was a slide.
A couple years later, my grandpa remarried and planned to sell the house. Not wanting to see the house leave the family, my family bought the house and moved in. At first it was strange. I saw two homes in one, the way it was before and the way it was now that I lived there. Every Christmas Eve, we make my grandma’s apple and brie appetizer in the same oven that I made the crafts in. Every time I toss clothes down the laundry chute, I think of her. Whenever we watch a movie in the family room, I remember watching those VHS Disney movies.
Several months ago, I thought I lost my brush behind one of the drawers in the bathroom. I pulled out the drawer to get it and I found several others items instead. So it got me thinking, what other mysteries could the house be hiding? Curious, I continued on the expedition to my parents’ bathroom, the same bathroom that my grandparents had used. I pulled out a drawer and found a hair piece that I instantly knew was my grandma’s. It was truly a special moment to think that it had been waiting for me all those years. But it isn’t just my grandparents’ memories that make my home so special. It’s my family who is loving and caring every day. Together we make new memories of love and laughter in our home. I also know that my grandma is with Jesus in heaven, always watching over me. But with my home, my grandma is still here in a way through the old and new memories and the unconditional love of my family.