In less than a month, the class who graduated two years ahead of us in high school is going to hold a multi-year reunion in my hometown. They specifically invited our class and the one between us, although I’m sure folks just outside of that window would be welcomed graciously too. With everything we have been trying to accomplish this year, and with the financial setbacks that came with vacant rental properties three times in one year, I’ve not felt inclined to go. It would be cool and all, but I just don’t think it’s in the cards this year. I’m sure to second guess my decision thirty times between now and then, and I’ll definitely feel envy and FOMO when I hear stories and see pictures. I hope this is a smashing success, to the extent that the class of 84 will want to do the same thing next year, and give me a mulligan.
I can barely keep track of my own schedule, and if an obligation or opportunity isn’t in my phone calendar, I absolutely will not remember it. Thus it is unsurprising that I have no idea what my parents’ travel schedules are like. Last night I dreamed that the doorbell rang here, and then my dad walked on in (without waiting for an answer just like we have trained all of our friends to do). In the dream I was both super excited to see him and soul-crushingly mortified that I hadn’t cleaned my house before he came. This dream was still shimmering around the edges of my memory around lunchtime today when I got a text notification from my stepmother that said “guess where we are” on the lock screen of the phone. My stomach clenched just like in the dream when I thought about how laundry is everywhere in the upstairs bedrooms and bath, the kitchen counters are a wreck, and the yard looks like we just gave up in June (sorta true). I was just sure she was going to say something like, “we just cleared Denver, and will be there in an hour.” Instead I found pictures that left me both jealous and nostalgic.
I have never loved a house more than the one I grew up in. After moving between a few properties all in the same block or two in the 1920s or 30s, my grandparents/great grandparents bought this house on a huge lot, and my family stayed there until 2003 or 2004. After my great grandfather died, my granny lived in the small apartment over the detached garage, and my grandparents raised my mother and uncle in the big house, expanding it as needed. When my mother was pregnant with me, she came to stay there, while my dad was either in training or deployed with the Air Force (I forget which), and this was the first house I came home to as a newborn. When my mom married my stepdad, we moved into the big house, and my grandparents moved into the small house we had been in after the divorce. I grew up there, and when I graduated from college, I followed in my mother’s footsteps, and went there to have my older daughter, while her dad was finishing up at CU. And later, while he was training with the Air Force, the girls and I went there to live until right before the family sold it. Much of my life happened in that house, and most of my dreams were set there, even fifteen years after I stopped going there. I used to go as often as I could, after I grew up and moved out, saying I needed to recharge my batteries. As an adult I think of it like Harry Potter needing to return to the Dursleys’ house once a year to keep the protection spell intact. It's a part of me in a magical way I could never fully express.
When I went back to town for reunions, sometimes I wouldn’t go past the house, because it hurt my heart too much knowing it wasn’t mine anymore. In later years, I would drive past, but would only sneak photos discreetly, for fear of seeming like a creeper. My parents were much less meek today. I don’t know whether they asked for permission from the current owners, but my stepmom sent gorgeous photos of the property, which looks very much like I remember it, other than they painted it a soft, pale, buttery beige, instead of the pure white it once was. My stepmom told me that they were in a town about an hour north, camping with an RV group, and decided on a whim to go down and get a Folger burger (which I can only enjoy in memories now). I’m so glad they did. I haven’t had a dream set in the old house in many months, but I will bet you dollars to donuts I will tonight, and I will love it.
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