This is where... || 2003-11-06 at 12:30 a.m.
Sometimes I am happy about the fact that we're not moving afterall. Sometimes I'm not. When I think about how small this place is, I am sad, but when I think about college and how my mother would rather help me pay for it than get a new house.... Actually, I am both happy and sad about that.But mostly I am happy because this is the only house I've ever known. This is the house I grew up in, and its walls are very familiar to me. This is where I had my first room to myself. This is where I had my first pet, a turtle named Snappy. This is where my cousins, sister, and I planned a stake out to catch Santa. (We never did.) This is where we used to open presents together, where we used to hunt for eggs on Easter together.
This is where... This is where my grandmother spent Christmas with us until she died. I can still see her sitting at the end of the table, turned in her chair to watch us tear into our gifts while she ate a croissant with cream cheese and drank her mamosa. This is where the first piano I learned to play was kept. This is where she began teaching me to play. This is where she wrote the notes in my piano books before I could read music. Sometimes they were wrong, but, looking back, that doesn't matter. What matters was that she took the time to write those notes for me, and on Christmas day I was able to play carols for everyone. Slow, chopping, and often erroneously - but, damnit, I still played.
Which is more than I can say for myself now.