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{p,h,f,r} My Grandmother’s House

Blogger tells me it has been 11 days since I posted.  I never intended to take most of June off.  Life has just been a little complicated.  I sat down several times to write, but nothing came.  I thought, to get me feet wet again, I would link up with Like Mother, Like Daughter (a day late) and share some memories of my grandmother’s house.

 
Pretty
 
This is a bit of a photo dump. There is much about my grandmother’s home that is pretty, mostly though, the beautiful memories that we made there.  It was always full of family and friends, her door was always open, and no matter when you came, you were getting a home cooked meal.
 

 
 
My grandmother was meticulous. Honestly, I have never met anyone who can take care of a home like her–including my mother who was in a class of her own.  There was never a crumb on the floor, never a speck of dust on the furniture, never the smallest item out of place.  These pictures at the messiest my grandmother’s house has ever been, due to the fact that we are cleaning it out.  If she were to ever see it this way, she would surely have a heart attack.  This is beyond disgraceful by her standards. ­čÖé

 
When I was a little girl, my grandmother (and great grandmother who lived here also) taught me many things: how to set a table, how to polish silver, how to shine crystal, how to take glasses in and out of a china cabinet without a sound.  I learned how to cook and serve a meal, how to welcome guests and wait on company, and so much more. They are the lessons that shaped my life and guide me still, although my home will never be as perfect as my grandmother’s!  In all these lessons, we spent a lot of time in the dining room, when I was young, the above statuettes stood on either side of the hutch.  The man on the left, the lady on the right.  I would stand there and dream of my wedding.  I always thought they were the most beautiful things I had ever seen.  Well, taste changes, when I took them down after decades of fantasizing about them, I realized, I really don’t like how they look at all…lol.  I had remembered them completely differently and this was the first time I had seen them up close as opposed to nearly 7 feet in the air.  I realized, I really didn’t want them, nor need them, despite begging my grandmother to let me have them when I grew up.  So, I took a picture to remember and bid them goodbye.
 

 
 
I always like my grandmother’s lavender room that she redecorated about 20 years ago, it somehow always seemed new. Again, she would fall over that there is something on the bed.  My grandmother’s bed was always made to precision, she could put any army corporal to shame. I know how to make a bed like that–smooth the spread, tug and pull until it is absolutely flat and even, fold back the top 20″ of the spread, roll the pillow, tuck the spread up and under the pillow, cut your hand in under the pillow, firmly, to make a sharp crease. I know how, but never in my married life have I done so.  Although, I am thinking of starting.  There must be something satisfying to greet a beautiful bed at the end of a long day.  I grew up making my bed that way, I was so thankful when my mother switched to comforters and pillow shams–no more rolled pillows!!  However, I never appreciated it.

 
This is actually a collection of knickknacks that were throughout my grandmother’s room.  I’m not sure where the little three tiered table that housed them went, but they were there until the day that she passed.  Her room was rearranged a little to make room for the hospital bed and things got changed around.  I can hear my grandmother saying, “Now what are you doing with that?  I doesn’t belong there!  You need to put things in their proper places or you’ll have a big mess!”  There’s a lot of truth in that.
 
I wonder what she would think about me blogging while my home is in a state of squalor by her standards???
 
 
Happy
 
Perhaps this should go under funny, but it is one of those crazy, happy things.  My grandmother’s bathroom was always my favorite room in the house.  It was all pink–ALL PINK!!!  I am a pink lover, it has always been my favorite color. No one else had a pink bathroom!  When I walked in over the weekend, it was hard to look around and realize I would never walk through it, again. 
 

 
 
Funny
 
While we are on the topic of bathrooms, I must confess, I was always afraid of the half-bath in the cellar.  I never grew out of it, even as an adult I would cringe if I had to use it.  I considered not even going in as I took photos last weekend.  However, I wanted to have pictures of everything. So I went in and held my breathe, while I continually told myself there was nothing to fear!  I am so glad that I did, in the linen closet, I found boxes, tins, and bags full of old photos!  I can’t wait to sort through them and discover my family’s history.
 

 
 
That brown pipe up the wall, always worried me!
 
 
Real
 
I have travelled pretty extensively.  My parents always took us to exotic locations: the Caribbean, South America, Mexico, cruises.  I have lived abroad in three countries and visited many more in Europe.  No where I have ever vacationed, has ever made me as happy as my grandmother’s home.  As a child I spent endless hours there, often venturing down with my father on his way to work in the wee hours of the morning and then coming home well after dark (and my bedtime), just to spend a day with my grandparents.  In the summers, until I was in high school, I would spend weeks at a time.  Her home was my home, my favorite escape and welcoming constant.  If I could spend just one week anywhere in the world, I would spend it here with my grandmother and make more memories, because there is no such thing as too many memories!
 
 

Now, I need to run. I feel an urge to clean something! ­čÖé

 
 
 
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1 thought on “{p,h,f,r} My Grandmother’s House

  1. What a lovely home, and how special to have those warm memories to carry with you. I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother's passing. What I wouldn't give to see my grandmother again, too. Wishing you much peace.
    -Jaime

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