Nostalgia

Every now and then I take a look back through the archives of my life since the digital age…my photos.  Since I rarely print out pictures anymore, except for special occasions, I keep my photos on my computer, along with most everyone else. 

Yesterday was one of those days that I started scrolling through my iPhoto and took a trip down memory lane.  I had gotten really sick yesterday with a massive migraine and body aches, which pretty much confined to my bed.  I started watching Awkward, and then after I got completely annoyed with Jenna and the pure corniness of the show, closed the Amazon app and tried to get some shut eye.  But with my whole body hurting, I had trouble getting to sleep, so I pulled out the photos and started scrolling through the past few year of my life. 

Through the hiking adventures, road tripping pics, and knee-sock-clad-jump-in-the-air shots, I came a cross a photo that touched pulled at my heart.  When I saw this photo, I came to a realization that part of my life would not be the same, and that people near and dear to me were really gone.  It was a simple picture with no people in it.  But this picture said so much to me as soon as I looked at it.  It was a reminder of so many memories I had had as a child and young adult, it reminded me of family and the hard times and good times we had had together. 

I had taken this picture a couple of years ago upstairs at my grandparents’ house.  My grandparents had already passed away at the time I took the photo, but my family would stay in the house on our frequent trips to Montana.  And though my grandparents were not there, a part of them lived on in that house.  My grandpa had bought the house when he worked on the railroad after WWII.  As his family grew, so did the house.  There were additions that were piecemealed together over the years.  With six children, his once one room house needed to grow.  My mother grew up in that house.  The house was covered with photographs of family, children, grandchildren, cousins, aunts and uncles.  Everyone was welcome in that house…the door was never locked and you never needed to knock.  There was always food in the fridge and liquor in the cabinet J.  Family reunions were held in the back yard, and I can remember my aunties shelling peas in their chairs on the back patio.  It was a place of comfort and joy.

Grandpa during WWII

Grandma served as a nurse
during WWII

Now why did this photo spark such emotion in me?  Well, after a few years of deciding what to do with the house, my mother and her siblings decided to sell the it, and it finally sold earlier this year.  The house was the last piece of my grandparents.  It was a reminder and memorial of their lives and all the good they had brought to their community and to my life.  And it was gone.  The picture reminded me that I will never look out that upstairs window at the mountain to see what the weather was like up on the hill.  I will never again walk into the house and see the family portraits and tributes on the wall.  I will never open the fridge and make myself some cheese and salami rolls.  It was a sad moment, but I am thankful for the times I had with my grandparents and my family in that house.  I was grateful to have those wonderful memories.  And I will have this photo to remind me of those memories and that time in my life.