The tales a house could tell.

I am in my old home,
the house in which I was reared.small__2943435
The place where I first knew love,
and where I first hated with all my heart
my brothers who drove me wild.
And who I now love dearly.

It is after midnight,
and everyone is in bed.
My own children tucked up,
in the rooms I once “owned”.

If this house could speak,
what tales it would tell.
Above me is a crack on the ceiling,
which my mum says was caused by the visit of my Carlow cousins,
and the jumping off the bed game we enjoyed that day.

In this room I see a dark wood window sill,
and beautiful shelves holding pictures of the past.
The wood they were built with, is a story in itself.

Many years ago when my Dad was alive and kicking,
he traveled to Norway for work.
He was there to inspect trawlers which were being purpose built.
When he came home he was so excited,
as he told my mum he had sourced a beautiful wood,
for the shelves and window sill in our sitting room.

This was a different time,
and shops selling ready made were not too plentiful.
My mum was very excited,
at last some work would be done on that room.

Weeks later the doorbell credit: <a href="">dietmut</a> via <a href="">photopin</a> <a href="">cc</a>
The wood had arrived.
Picture the scene,
my mum expecting flat pack from Norway,
the reality was the wood came
in the form of three tree trunks!
They barely fitted in the driveway.

However it was no bother to my Dad,
who was a gifted carpenter.
The tree trunks were transported to the boat yard,
and the resultant wood transformed,
into beautiful woodwork
that has stood the test of time.

It is at times such as this,
that I become consumed by the past.
Despite a turbulent life,
my time in this house was a truly happy one.

I will be here a few more days,photo credit: <a href="">gingerherring</a> via <a href="">photopin</a> <a href="">cc</a>
and with every moment I will breathe in that past.
The kitchen where life really happened.
The sitting room where we fought over the television,
ate Sunday dinner together,
and partied regularly as a family.
And the room to which I will retire tonight.
My old bedroom.
Where I dreamed of the future I now live in.

Some day down the road,
my children will hopefully return to their own home.
Maybe with their partners and children.
I hope they too can look around and smile,
and remember the cracks in our ceiling,
and the days where they felt love for the first time.

photo credit: dietmut via photopin cc
photo credit: gingerherring via photopin cc
photo credit: DYFL via photopin cc

27 thoughts on “The tales a house could tell.

  1. SO many good feelings. How wonderful. I feel the same way for my daughter – though my experience growing up was much different and i am making new memories in my parents’ house now – with my daughter’s help. That is just as good. 🙂
    Love –
    My dad is also a gifted carpenter and built my childhood home.

    1. I think it is great that you are able to make new happier memories in your parents house, with your daughter. Dads who are carpenters are just wow. My husband is a DIY disaster.

  2. What a beutiful text. You’re so lucky to be able to return to the home you grew up in. We sold our first house three years ago so our children will have to knock on the door and ask to visit when they’re all grown up….

    1. I really can’t imagine not having this house to return to! I suppose not too many hold onto a house as long as my parents did.

    1. Ha ha. I too was like that for many years. Within 5 minutes of arriving I was ready to leave but time has changed us both and we have a lovely relationship now. I did say before it took for me to forgive and move on for things to improve. My mum (mom) did the best she could and is only human. I am delighted though we put things behind us as now I really enjoy her company as do my children.

  3. I found you on Day 10 of my reading challenge, and here it is Day 11 and I am finally commenting! Your words are beautifully written and I felt an immediate connection to the story they tell. My family and I are currently living at my mom’s house, the house in which I grew up. My husband and I are sharing the room that was my nursery as a baby. There are so many memories, good and bad, in this house and now I am building new ones with my daughters. It’s been a wild year, one that I didn’t think I’d survive, but living back at home has been special, even if it has been challenging at times.

    1. I have just read your post. It was beautiful. A sad day for you all. I would be a wreak if we had to pack up my family home. Thankfully my mum is still so very well.

  4. Love this post and read your friends post on it as well. I left my family home back in Pennsylvania after my father’s death and there are still days I can still hear the sounds and smell the smells of growing up in that home. Treasure your family home, you miss it when it is gone! Great post!

    1. Thank you. I do. I cannot even imagine a day where I will not be able to go up home and spend time with my mum there and meet up with the rest of the family.

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