I was down at my grandmother's house, well its my house, but you understand that to me it will never be that, its grandma's house always. I looked around. Most of the furniture is in place and so are some of the things that always were there, but the stuff from the drawer old books and papers and all those greeting cards, are scattered throughout the dining room and kitchen.
It just made me wonder.
Is this all that's left of her wonderful life? There's barely a trace of her left, except her old ratty sweatshirt coat, you know something kinda like a hoodie but not, and an umbrella.
The house still smells like grandma if that makes sense, but the important part of it, grandma, is not there and that makes it just a house. A house that I neither want or need in my life. The house that's keeping me from the car that I would have had the money for a downpayment on if I weren't shelling out the part of my savings to pay for homeowners insurance and the utilities that we're still keeping on...plus the taxes and other things that just eat up ever extra cent I have.
And I can remember times when gram said to me that we'd be better off if she were gone. I know that it was the ramblings of a 101 year old lady that knew her life was winding down, but gram, no! Life rolled on so much nicer when you were there to talk to, to help when we needed. When that house across the street was your house and not just a house.
like a thursday thirteen, only different
5 hours ago