This house is not a house…it’s a memory bank.
Each day I spend in my Nans house I get nostalgic and sorrowful, sad that soon it will be sold and the future memories end in my own personal history.
Maybe I’m being foolish, perhaps selfish but when I look back over my life the memories this house invokes is overwhelming.
The many meetings of Nan and Grandad, the Uncles and Aunties, the grand children, the great grandchildren, the nieces and nephews…the weddings, baptisms, Christmases and all manner of celebrations. And the horrid funerals.
The dogs that had passed through the years of the house, my personal childhood dog was Rex who I used to sleep with at the top of the stairs and sometimes sneak into his kennel.
The endless summers and funny times, the sad times and the happy times.
As the world turned, memories were burned into my mind.
My granda making me fry ups late at night, the old black and white films. The jokes we played. I love the house and the safety it brought.
Now those days are ending as my Nan passed and now it will be sold. I am absolutely devastated but I can take solace in the fact that no one could ever sell my memories.
And for that I am grateful.
RIP Nan and Granda
I will cherish the time together in that house.