The House.

My childhood home is a very complex story.

One that brings joy, and conversely, so many tears, that I get choked up.

The stories it holds, far too many to count.

The endless dinner parties.

Smiles, gatherings, conversations.

Recalling Christmases around the fireplace opening gifts and smiling.

The infinite games of hide and go seek my father and I would play up until he passed away, where we would try to scare each other.

The many lessons my mother taught me at our kitchen table.

Endless nights of the 3 of us watching Jeopardy together in our den.

The laughter at the dinner table.

The stories told in the dining room.

Playing with my dolls in my bedroom.

Having a revolving door of friends over to hang out.

Building things with my dad in his shop in the basement.

My mom teaching me to cook in the kitchen.

You see, my childhood house holds stories, memories, lives, lessons, and love.

It is where many famous jingles were written.

Where many delicious meals were prepared.

Where some can argue celebrities, entertained.

And yet so much sadness.

Remembering my mother's ultimate decline in the very same house, after my father's passing.

Watching someone stronger than I had ever known, turn to a shell of a person, in slow motion.

Going down to my father's office, only to find the chair at his desk empty, and void of the sound of music after he died.

Now with my parents gone, that house is the closest I can be to them.

It is all I have left of them in a physical form.

With that comes a kind of confliction that can be hard to understand for outsiders.

I love that house.

I hate that house.

It makes me want to smile, cry, and scream at the same time.

But it definitely makes me feel.

It makes me feel everything with a kind of rawness, that is very very hard to explain.

But once I walk into that house, no matter how I feel, I immediately miss my parents.

Miss them terribly.

Awfully.

Wishing so badly to see them sitting in the den, my mom watching TV and my dad reading a book.

But walking into a room completely vacant of either of them.

So for now I will be there, in all those feelings.

I will be in that house, soaking it all in.

Because once I let that house go, I let them go.

And right now, I can't do that.

Maybe I never will.

I miss you Mom and Dad.

Xoxo,

C.