The House That Built Me



I got the idea of this post from my favorite blog (I know, you know that already)...over at owlhaven. It struck me in the heart in the right way. Though I live in Florida now, my home and my heart will always be in New York. Yeah, you have heard it before...once a New Yorker, always a New Yorker. I feel like I am out of my element. Like something is missing from me. I push that aside though, and know that God knows where I should be.

This picture is of the house that I grew up in...in Poughkeepsie, New York. North of the city and all the way east in the state of New York. President Roosevelt is from this part of New York...the good, old Hudson Valley. I took this picture two years ago when I was in New York. It was the second time I had seen MY house in over twenty years. First time...with just Matt and the second time I got to bring my kids. They sat on the porch that I had sat on a million times. They saw the second story window of my parents' room where my dog had slid out of one icy morning. They saw the beautiful oak tree that I used to gaze at from my second story room...with my pretty strawberry shortcake sheets and spread that my mom had made me (they were way to expensive to buy, so she sewed them herself she told me years later)...in my canopy bed that every girl dreams of.

My kids ran in the backyard...down the hill that I had sledded down a hundred times...we saw the actual rose bushes that my mom planted in 1980...still thriving and so mature. The owners told me that they still get strawberries on that hill...from the same plants my mom planted...we used to steal them as we would pass by.

A few things have changed...the garage has been rebuilt...gone are the memories of my friends and I making a Pinkies club, from Grease the movie. The old coal stove is gone. Gosh, I remember the truck pouring in the coal through the little window of the basement and my mom and dad putting it in the stove to keep the house warm all winter. The horse field across the street is gone, and now stands a pretty house. I can feel the wind against my skin as I learned to ice skate on the field that would freeze every winter.

I have googled my house, so I can see it from above every once and awhile. So many memories...good and bad. But this place will be my first home that I remember. The life there has influenced me so much...I was just so glad to touch it again...to experience being that little girl one more time.

Comments

Matthew said…
I love this post, but it makes me want to move! Sweet memories.

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