That Old House

That Old House Lindsey Selph Some of my fondest memories took place in my old house. The house was small and filled with the warmth of a loving family. It was a place where imagination took flight. There were always exciting things happening at that house. I remember the smell of a home cooked meal bringing us closer, around the family table. From what I remember the atmosphere was very playful, which often times led to dress-ups, performances, dance parties, and much more. I have so many great memories of that house. One of the things I can vividly remember was my sister and I playing dress up. We are three years apart in age but we were glued to the hip when we were younger. My mom made a costume box for us with some of her old clothing. In that cardboard box there were hats, dresses, high heel shoes, jewelry, scarves, and a whole lot of other accessories. My mom would help my sister and I put on make-up and jewelry. Then we would proceed to walk around the house as if we owned the place, modeling our new look. We had so much fun playing dress-up and mom and dad always went along with whatever the theme was for the day. My sister and I would drag our little brother into the action, which I know he is not very proud of now but back then he seemed to have a laugh or two about it. Another memory that sticks out to me had to do with laundry baskets… yeah I said it, laundry baskets.  My brother, sister and I used to play with laundry baskets, the kind of baskets that were long and rectangular. I remember climbing in them with our bankies (what we called our blankets) and take turns pushing each other around the house. I am not sure how we got to this point but I do remember my dad having a big part in it. He was the one who invented the game in the first place. Some other major moments that I remember taking place in that house were: my mom’s water breaking and my baby brother being born, our back porch being built with the help of my grandfather, by brother backing our car into the neighbor’s house when he was 5 years old, and much more. I could go on and on about that old house and the memories that I have of my childhood in it but I would be writing for a lifetime. When my parents decided it was time to move in to a bigger house it was a very hard for me to hear. I loved that house and never wanted to leave. Soon after though I realized that with a new home comes new memories to be made. Sometimes I still drive by my old house just to see how the new owners are taking care of it. Every time I pass by it I think about all the things that I remember about living there. Almost everything is the same from what I can see on the outside. The door is still that dark blue color that always stuck out to me, the bushes in the front still line the sidewalk, and the small lamppost is still at the foot of the driveway. Although not everything is today what it was in the past, our memories of those things keep us attached in ways that we can never explain. There is a quote from a show called The Wonder Years that says, “Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.”