Houses have been a huge part of family life this week. Grandma moved house yesterday and it was an emotional day, leaving behind well over forty years of memories. Granny and Grandpa also moved this week and left their beloved house. Both very significant events in every body's life and difficult days to cope with. This got me thinking. It is not the bricks and mortar that should carry the memories, yet what went on within. Wherever we move to, we will always have those. I will remember the girls bedroom from this house for example and all the fun they had sharing a room, but the special memory has been watching their bond as sisters flourish as a result of this, not the room. I stood outside an hour ago and watched Amy and the girls through the kitchen window (yes - I was having a fag!) as they chatted and decorated cakes. It was a magical sight and it was nothing to do with the house. They were smiling and giggling. Amy was teaching them and stroking their hair as she spoke. It was a perfect picture of a mother and her two daughters, framed through the window of our house. This is when it struck me. When I work away, I don't miss the house, or my own bed - there will always be another bed to sleep in or another house to live in. It's the people that live there that make it special. I was very sad to see Grandma's connection with Berry Hall finally end yesterday, but I would be even more sad to loose Grandma or watch Amy go through the pain of loosing her parents. So let's forget the houses and as we push towards Christmas remember that houses last for potentially hundreds of years and continue to be enjoyed by generations of families to come. Our families belong to us just once in a lifetime and I quite simply love mine to bits....
No comments:
Post a Comment