My mother shared this meme yesterday, and I had a hearty lol.
But, my first thought was, that’s because your grandparents didn’t have a lake house.
In an instant, the word ‘childhood’ takes me back to the feeling of catching my breath as my chest heaved against the warmth of the wooden dock, water dripping from my pruned fingertips, trees swaying like fans overhead. I’d stay out long enough to get hot, to feel the skin on my nose crisping, and then I’d dive back in.
Quickly enough, that memory leads to others. Fishing, chasing crickets, catching butterflies, fireflies. Snapping beans on the swing. Woodpeckers, ducks, and loons. The smell of burning leaves. Collecting leaves and acorns. Fireplace popcorn. Playing Chinese checkers, rummy, cribbage. Riding on the open tailgate with my cousins. Opera. Chocolate mayonnaise cake, warm apple pie, hot breakfast, chipped beef gravy, small glass bottles of Coca-Cola and cold ham sandwiches, black plums. Perry Mason and old movies. Worn afghans and crisp sheets.
Ah, Grandma’s house.
Grandma’s house was magical.
This time of year, I always miss Grandma’s house. Sometime this month, I will drive over the river and through the woods…I will drive up and down all the winding wooded roads that lead to Grandma’s house. I will scare my family to death taking those curves, which I know like the back of my hand. They’ll forgive me for that, and for waxing nostalgic, because the fall foliage is particularly spectacular there.
It’s bittersweet. The unchanging scenery pleases me and somehow puts me right. The absence of my grandparents pains me. I cannot walk through the door and take my place at my grandmother’s knee. She is not there. It breaks my heart every time.
Still, I feel like my presence is requested. I must pay homage. It is, in a way I cannot explain, a homecoming of sorts.
It makes me so grateful to be home.
I never tire of being grateful to live here again.
Do you have such a place that holds happy memories? Are you called to visit?
joeyfullystated 
I have a few places with very happy memories. They usually aren’t houses, and I am not called to visit. One is a park, where I am hoping to visit soon, but will have a rough time visiting.
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I hope your visit to the park finds you connected again, Josh. Thank you for sharing.
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For me it’s my grandmother’s house as well. She’s been gone for years, and her house bought by others, but on the rare occasion I make it back to my home state, I’ll drive four extra hours just to visit her town and her old house. Like you, the memories from my times at my grandmother’s are my happiest.
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Oh that’s so nice. Four hours is definitely over the river and through the woods. ❤ ❤ ❤
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You are so fortunate to be able to return right to that place that warmed you so, Joey. Enjoy this fall’s pilgrimmage, my friend. Your grandma is looking down, somehow, knowing. ❤
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Yes, but it’s nowhere in Georgia.
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Oh. Do you ever get to go?
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Yes, it’s my mom’s house in the Seattle area. It brings back all kinds of memories of my dad. Also, my mom and I may not always see eye to eye and she jabbers a lot but I feel a lot of comfort spending time at her house. The plus side is that the Pacific Northwest is beautiful.
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What a wondrous and special post. So glad you can go back there.
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Lovely post Joey, and the area there looks gorgeous 🙂
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Thanks — Yes, I love it there 🙂
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Ugh. I wrote a long comment, and then, because I wasn’t logged in or something, lost it. I have a similar spot, filled with similar memories, but I cannot visit there anymore. But, that’s OK because I carry those memories and the people that made them with me, in my heart. The thing I miss most in losing this connection is the feeling of being entirely alone in a place not accessible to everyone.
Fondly,
Elizabeth
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I hate it when that happens!
Yes, the memories will always be ours ❤ Thanks, Elizabeth
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Parts of the Ottawa Valley where I grew up has for me a few places like your grandmother’s house. I miss enormous rivers and dense forests and your post has made me miss these even more. How fortunate you are to have had such a place to spend chunks of your childhood.
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It really was magnificent, John. I am sometimes sad that my own children never got to have a place like that.
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This was a very special post to read. I’m glad you have such a place. Very few places from my childhood exist in a way in which I can revisit. I have gone back to the town in which I was born and raised until I was about 10. That always feel nice. Going back to the region (around Pittsburgh) always feels like I’m going home.
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Your description of your lake house memories is so visceral, the colors, the temperature, the smell of burning leaves…! Makes me envious.
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It really was wonderful. Thank you for the compliment 🙂
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Our past and people we’ve lost remain strong pulls, and you honor your bond with your visits. That’s how I feel on my sojourns to Michigan.
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SO nice.. Thank you, Sammy 🙂
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Beautiful post, beautiful scenery.
Mine would be my grandmother’s house, the place I spent many days as a little girl helping her bake, clean, read books, play board games. It’s rented out now, but we did live in it for a couple years after LM was born, which was a special time.
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That would be awesome. I’d love to have the lake house, but we can’t afford it, and even less so as a secondary home. My mother says “maybe someday” and I do like to hope.
Thanks for sharing.
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Grandma’s house. Absolutely. Beautiful….
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My favourite childhood memories are also centred around grandparents – their farm in Kansas. It survived Indians, the Civil War, and me. But living in Europe, I can’t exactly pop back and see that old place, if it even still exists; another farmer took it on after my grandmother couldn’t care for it anymore, and turned it into part of his larger property. Sometimes progress can be a negative thing, but the memories can never be bulldozed or uprooted.
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Thank you for your comment. I’m glad to read of others’ places. The bulldozed and uprooted bit — It happens, doesn’t it?
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Sadly, yes. It would be interesting to go back to that old farmhouse now as an adult, and see how small it’s become as compared to my memories.
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One of my grandmothers made the best homemade chicken soup in the world. Her home always smelled so darn good. The other grandmother had a candy drawer and a freezer always full of popsicles and ice cream. I miss them both and I appreciate the memories so much more as I’ve grown older. I would make a fantastic grandmother because I learned from the best. 🙂
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I agree! I had a serious grandma and a playful grandma, and I loved them both so dearly.
Thanks for sharing your memories of food. Food seems to be the uniting element of grandmothers for many of us.
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This post which was chock full of memories and emotions really “touches” me. Thanks for sharing this, I liked the idea of going back, too. I like Rockport, Massachusetts and it is partly the beauty in the Cape Ann area and partly my freedom allowed there. ♡
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Grandmother is full of unconditional love, hugs and carefree moments.
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Indeed.
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Whoa, wait – what is “chocolate mayonnaise cake”? Is that, like, an American thing I haven’t heard of?
As for fond childhood memories, most of mine are at home in the backyard, playing footy; or at my uncle’s place, riding bikes. Love being outdoors 🙂
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Thank you for sharing 🙂
I suppose it’s American. I never inquired. Few people make it, since few people make homemade mayonnaise, but it’s extremely delicious.
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My friend’s sumarhus (summer house) in Iceland. Pure magic.
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Oooh, I wanna go to Iceland! 😀 Dreamy!
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Yep, awesome post! I wish I had a feeling like that, we grew up so far away from extended family that we never developed anything other than awkward ties.
Magoo was a dessert nomad in some previous life and was never happy unless she was packing us up and moving around the country on the pretense of some career move of our father’s. (But we knew it was her pulling up the tent pegs and loading the camels!)
I want to be that Grandma, the one the kid’s look forward to seeing. The one that say’s inappropriate things and makes everyone laugh when she farts bending over to get the pie out of the oven…
I can’t wait 😀
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*dessert nomad
Hahahaha that spelling mistake has cracked me up like you wouldn’t believe?
*desert nomad may make more sense but I think I like dessert nomad better.
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I’d rather be a dessert nomad as well…mostly in a tundra — cheesecake, ice cream, pudding… 😛
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fudge sauce, trifle… do you even know about trifle? (you need to know about trifle, it has alcohol and dreams of utopia.)
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Yes, I am familiar 😛 MMM!
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You surely jest about forgiving you for the horror induced panic of your driving through those curves at a rate of speed no one should drive there. We will not return to our regular skin tone until we hit the long beautifully straight highway. My spots are the big blue house and the woods behind grandma and grandpa Louie’s place.
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What a lovely post…
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What a gorgeous place, no wonder it holds so many magical memories.
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I feel the same way about my grandparents. I only hope my grandkids feel some portion of that. 🙂
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Ah, this is so beautiful Joey ❤
I never knew either of my Grandmas, they both passed before I was born, but I currently live in my maternal Grandparents house so I still feel close to them – especially when enjoying the lilacs my Grandpa planted and the lily of the valley my Grandma planted. 🙂
The photo you shared of the fall foliage is freaking gorgeous!
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Thanks, Jewels! 😀
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I am called but the physical buildings no longer exist. Maybe just as well because it would hurt to go where my grandmother is no more.
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