Reminisce
It's strange being here in Milwaukee. Not bad. Just weird. The holidays have never been the same since I first left for college...that transition. Since the day I left for Point seven years ago I ceased being a resident and became a guest.
Everything thing is how I remember it, but so many things have changed. The most difficult change to wrap my head around is the lack of noise. It's so quiet in the house. No fish tank gurgling water through the filter. No gerbils chewing on plastic or scurrying through their tunnels. No parakeets twittering at themselves in a mirror. And worst of all. No dog under foot. No quiet jingle of tags as they walk down the hall. No whimpers as they twitch in their dreams. No piercing eyes starring at you as you snack on leftovers from Christmas dinner. No longer a presence in the house. Almost a deadness. It's been over a year since the house has become a dog free zone...but I still cannot fathom it...I've only really been here momentarily twice. Once this past August. And now. But the house is still the same.
The yard has change substantially. The two trees that used to dwarf the house, one in front and one in back have long since past...chopped down before they committed more substantial damage than the one power cord a dead branch pulled down in a storm years ago...before I left. But I loved those trees. Not the squirrels that dared dart close to the house because of their proximity, but the trees... the shade. Gone too are the massive lilac bushes that consumed most of the space behind the garage. Strangling the tiny maple that managed to raise its leafy sapling head amongst their trunks. But the maple remains. Yards taller than it was back in grade school. And it's sibling silver maple that sprung up defiantly among the wild roses near the trellis. The silver maple that we're pretty certain is responsible for prevent our basement from flooding about eight years ago.
Gone too are the large round evergreen that parted our yard from our neighbors. Between these evergreens I remember, almost daily, refilling the 2 liter bottle of birdseed. Empty shells always covered the ground beneath the branches. squawking and fluttering would abruptly stop when one of us would approach. And dozens of cardinals, chickadees, sparrows, finches the golden and the house, robins and the occasional blue jay would erupt from the cover if we ventured too close. Rabbits occasionally huddled among the ruin of the bird's meal sniffing out leftovers. The dogs loved sniffling around there...tangling themselves in the dense branches.
The birds are still around, though not in the quantity I remember...we no longer have the feeders to coax them around our yard. And the neighborhood hawk family still patrols the sky, keeping the squirrel and rabbit population in check.
The snow plowed from the church yard still piles up into mountainous dunes along our back yard. I remember the joy of sledding down the hills into the parking lot below on weekends. And climbing over them to make it to classes in the morning. The church still stands. Though the crowds of cars on Sunday seem diminished. The pastor I grew up with is no longer there. Nor are most of the members of the choir I sang with in high school. A few older faces linger...holding onto the familiarity of this parish as long a possible...faces I recognize but can no longer name.
My room is largely the same...most of the rooms are. But a strange sense of storage blankets the house. Each room is packed with relics. Some from years back...grade school year books, old clothes, volleyball and band uniforms, photos, childhood books. Some relics are much more recent. A piece of jewelry purchased this past summer, a painting for a costume class, a diploma...
Still the same. But not.
Another change coming soon. That dear old Honda that's seen me to and from the East coast for three years, that moved me to and from Milwaukee and Point and briefly to Illinois. That got me around during my summer job in Appleton. That nearly met its fate with a median on the PA turnpike...time to say goodbye to Grandpa's Honda. The neighbor offered to buy it...and after deciding to stick it out in Honolulu for yet another year, I've no real need for it...it would be 2009 before I'd be using it again.
I should take it out for one last drive.
Everything thing is how I remember it, but so many things have changed. The most difficult change to wrap my head around is the lack of noise. It's so quiet in the house. No fish tank gurgling water through the filter. No gerbils chewing on plastic or scurrying through their tunnels. No parakeets twittering at themselves in a mirror. And worst of all. No dog under foot. No quiet jingle of tags as they walk down the hall. No whimpers as they twitch in their dreams. No piercing eyes starring at you as you snack on leftovers from Christmas dinner. No longer a presence in the house. Almost a deadness. It's been over a year since the house has become a dog free zone...but I still cannot fathom it...I've only really been here momentarily twice. Once this past August. And now. But the house is still the same.
The yard has change substantially. The two trees that used to dwarf the house, one in front and one in back have long since past...chopped down before they committed more substantial damage than the one power cord a dead branch pulled down in a storm years ago...before I left. But I loved those trees. Not the squirrels that dared dart close to the house because of their proximity, but the trees... the shade. Gone too are the massive lilac bushes that consumed most of the space behind the garage. Strangling the tiny maple that managed to raise its leafy sapling head amongst their trunks. But the maple remains. Yards taller than it was back in grade school. And it's sibling silver maple that sprung up defiantly among the wild roses near the trellis. The silver maple that we're pretty certain is responsible for prevent our basement from flooding about eight years ago.
Gone too are the large round evergreen that parted our yard from our neighbors. Between these evergreens I remember, almost daily, refilling the 2 liter bottle of birdseed. Empty shells always covered the ground beneath the branches. squawking and fluttering would abruptly stop when one of us would approach. And dozens of cardinals, chickadees, sparrows, finches the golden and the house, robins and the occasional blue jay would erupt from the cover if we ventured too close. Rabbits occasionally huddled among the ruin of the bird's meal sniffing out leftovers. The dogs loved sniffling around there...tangling themselves in the dense branches.
The birds are still around, though not in the quantity I remember...we no longer have the feeders to coax them around our yard. And the neighborhood hawk family still patrols the sky, keeping the squirrel and rabbit population in check.
The snow plowed from the church yard still piles up into mountainous dunes along our back yard. I remember the joy of sledding down the hills into the parking lot below on weekends. And climbing over them to make it to classes in the morning. The church still stands. Though the crowds of cars on Sunday seem diminished. The pastor I grew up with is no longer there. Nor are most of the members of the choir I sang with in high school. A few older faces linger...holding onto the familiarity of this parish as long a possible...faces I recognize but can no longer name.
My room is largely the same...most of the rooms are. But a strange sense of storage blankets the house. Each room is packed with relics. Some from years back...grade school year books, old clothes, volleyball and band uniforms, photos, childhood books. Some relics are much more recent. A piece of jewelry purchased this past summer, a painting for a costume class, a diploma...
Still the same. But not.
Another change coming soon. That dear old Honda that's seen me to and from the East coast for three years, that moved me to and from Milwaukee and Point and briefly to Illinois. That got me around during my summer job in Appleton. That nearly met its fate with a median on the PA turnpike...time to say goodbye to Grandpa's Honda. The neighbor offered to buy it...and after deciding to stick it out in Honolulu for yet another year, I've no real need for it...it would be 2009 before I'd be using it again.
I should take it out for one last drive.
Labels: personal
posted by Unknown at
2:43 PM
1 Comments:
Hey Sam. Let me share in your feeling of displacement. My old house is the same way and now that I'm here I'll probably never see it again because hopefully it will sell before I come back. but it's so weird to hear about all the things my mom has done to it in the past year - the wallpaper that's been there since before I was born is goine. I can't picture it now - only the way I remember it.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home