This Old House

102-0265_img.JPGI grew up in this house in Hooper, Nebraska. The town is what we used to call “the metroplex” – 860 people. Now we call it “Poopyville North.” Dh’s town is Chester, Nebraska — “Poopyville South.” The house is what is we used to call a “bungalow.” When I was growing up, it seemed so BIG!

Dh had to pass by Hooper on a business trip a few weeks ago. He knew I wanted to go and take a picture of my old house, but I had other commitments. When he got home, he had me download his photos, and there it was! I thought that was very sweet of him.

It’s odd — the house in the picture doesn’t seem as real as the house in my memories. I can’t say I was happy there, and I left as soon as I could get away to college, but the history is mine. That old house was filled with vivid color, people who were bona-fide characters, loud chatter, holidays, music, drunken fights, overwrought  emotions, food. Flashbacks of scenes, both heart-warming and horrendous, come and go in my mind like lightning, when I think of that old house.

 The house in this photo seems cold, colorless, lived in by strangers. Is that why they say “you can’t go home again”? I wouldn’t want to. Let the old house of my memories live on.

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3 thoughts on “This Old House

  1. Isn’t it amazing how strongly our memories can be connected to a physical place? I’ve gone by the house I first lived in and couldn’t belive the flood of emotions and vivid imagery that washed over my brain when I saw it. That was very nice of Dh to get you that photo. You now have a fortress of emotions/memories/images available to build your characters.

  2. Aww, how sweet of DH to take the pic for you! 🙂

    My brother and his family live in the house I grew up in – it’s been in our family for four generations now. Lots of memories in that house.

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