Our Dream House

Most of my childhood memories revolve around a single house. The house my mother grew up in and where we spent our family vacations. Our family of six would pile into the car with our suitcases and pillows and take the four-hour drive to our favorite place in the whole world- the hills of West Virginia. I remember arriving at night most of the time. I would love to watch the tall trees go by and feel the car swerve around every curve. There were not a lot of traffic lights in the hills where the house was located and it seemed surreal. If you didn't know where you were going, you'd be lost in no time. Finally, we would reach the driveway at the bottom of the hill. We couldn't see the house from the road because of the cluster of trees hiding it, so we always waited with bated breath for that first glimpse of the house. First, we would see the welcoming lights shining through the branches and then there it was. As soon as the car was parked, we would run down the brick walkway past Grandpa's flowerbed and see our grandparents' happy faces through the sliding glass door. We were always greeted enthusiastically no matter what time of night it was. The sights and smells of the house immediately comforted me and I would go straight to my designated bedroom to unpack and make myself at home. In the morning, we would be greeted by the bright sunlight and birds chirping in the trees outside the windows. The house was surrounded by trees and we had a feeling as if we were closed off from the world. I can still feel the wind in my hair and hear the rustling of the trees as I pinned the sheets and towels out on the line up the hill behind the house. My Grandpa had a vegetable garden to be envied and always had the most beautiful and delicious tomatoes I had ever eaten. I loved it when Grandma would take the rhubarb from the garden and make rhubarb pie. The favorite place to sit and visit was the back porch. We were out there rain or shine just chatting and I would love to hear the West Virginia twang floating around. We had bunny rabbits to hold and pet and even had a funeral for a bunny that had been born but was too weak to live. My cousins lived right next door to our grandparents and I was pea-green with envy. Our favorite game was hide and seek and the house was a great place for it. We explored every nook and cranny of that house and the surrounding yard. They even had a pool that we loved to play in when we got too hot from exploring. My favorite place was the front porch where I would lay on the swing, feeling the wind in my hair, and dream about the man I was going to marry someday. So many memories. Then, finally, they couldn't care for that big house and yard anymore. They were getting on in years and needed something smaller. I couldn't believe it. Sell our home? How could they even suggest such a thing? I knew, of course, that there was nothing anyone could do. No one in our family had the means to buy it from them, so it was sold to a stranger. Some years later, our house was bulldozed to the ground. It just wasn't safe anymore I gathered, but my mind and heart still cried in agony. Years have gone by since that tragedy and I feel the loss of it every time I think of it. Never to be able to bring my own sons there has been hard to think about. I know they would have loved it as much as myself. I told my brother the other day that if I could, I would have that house built on that land exactly the way we remember it. He felt exactly the same way. I hold on to those memories we made at "our" house. They are memories I will cherish for the rest of my life.