When I was in the sixth grade my parents bought a new house. It is a wonderful, sacred place in my memory. It had a wonderful yard full of trees, a big unfinished basement that included a shelf full of old National Geographic magazines dating back to the 1920's, and a collection of interesting rooms that had been added on over the years. The very best thing about that house was that I would finally have a room of my very own. I loved that room. It was sort of a funny L-shaded room wallpapered with millions of bright flowers. I tried many times to count those flowers, but always lost count. My bed was next to the big windows. When I woke up in the morning I looked out over the tops of our orange trees and felt on top of the world. When an earthquake rocked southern California I would lay in my bed and watch the sky rock back and forth, thinking it was a wonderful ride. I never understood why people were so afraid of this gentle rocking that I felt in my bedroom. The very best part of that room was my balcony. I had a door leading out to my own private balcony. Actually it was the tar paper-covered roof that had a rickety rail around it. I could stand there and see for miles. Occasionally I could see the faint outline of Catalina Island. I spread a blanket out on that balcony and lay in the sun and dreamed of the day my prince charming would come. I dreamed of so many wonderful adventures.
I heard this song recently. It was a favorite song of my daddy's. He would sing it as a happy song about this house that we all loved.
7 comments:
What a great post, Sue. I love reading about childhood memories. O remember my very first bedroom too....lots of tiny, little yellow flowers on a blue background. That was my first home....when my parents bought their second and last home my room was very different and created off key memories. As for earthquakes....never liked them still don't. When I look at the photos coming from Haiti it scares me to pieces.
I grew up in a 1929 Tudor-style house with a green Spanish tile roof. I had a terrace off my room... it was my little escape place. I, too, have a lot of memories from that home.
When some of the roof tiles broke, my parents could not find any to match! (only red) So they had to take some from the back side of the (free-standing) garage.
They lived there until 1993, the year DD was born. DH has said it's too bad she never got to enjoy that great house and its huge tree-filled yard.
I remember my room very clearly. Wood paneling and pink shag carpet. The heater was right across the hall from my bedroom. I heard the woosh everytime it caught and could see a blue glow from the pilot light under the door. Small bungalow built in the 50's. It was small but my parents were so proud of that house.
I remember your balcony as magical, not rickety. That was long ago!
You reminded me of the Statler Brothers song that sings, "Countin' flowers on the wall, that don't bother me at all..."
Beautiful reminiscense. :) I, too, loved the house that I grew up in. I was so sad when my parents sold it without my getting the real chance to say goodbye. My sister Mary didn't get a chance to say goodbye, either, so we talk about one day going back there...but it just won't be the same as our memories.
Such beautiful memories and images created... Do you have photos of any inside bits? Most were taken outside in those days...what happened to the house...did it get sold? Does it still exist? I am curious to know what happened after you left it - and why did you leave it (i mean your family.
I love that house. I go by it every chance I get and cry. We always stayed in your room but were never allowed to open the door to the balcony.
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