Wednesday, September 14, 2022

A House Is A Vessel That Holds Memories

I can't remember exactly when I saw the movie, The Trip to Bountiful, starring the late, stellar actress, Geraldine Page. They released the movie in 1985, which means I would have been in my 30s. But what I do clearly remember is just how much the story moved me. In fact, so much so, I found myself in tears throughout the final 30 minutes of the film. Last week, I rediscovered the film online while searching for something completely different, but watched it, instead of the film I was initially searching for. And I'm so glad I did.

Brief synopsis:

An elderly woman, Carrie Watts (portrayed by Page) is determined to escape her son's cramped suburban home and return to the small town where she was born and raised.

Once there, she is moved to tears as she surveys her father's land and the remains of the family home. Having accepted the reality of the current condition of Bountiful and knowing that she has reached her goal of returning there before dying, she is ready to return to Houston when her son and daughter-in-law arrive to drive her back. Having confronted their common history in Bountiful, the three commit to living more peacefully together. They begin their drive back to Houston.

Back when I first saw 'The Trip to Bountiful', I didn't understand why I felt so emotional. I was much younger then; therefore, I couldn't fully identify with the character in the film and her desire to visit her childhood home. Nor could I identify with her emotional reaction when she eventually arrived in Bountiful and looked at the house after not seeing it for so many years.

 

Without even saying a word, her eyes said it all...

It wasn't until I watched the film again, did I realize why I felt so emotional upon first seeing it. Even back then, I think I could sense that perhaps one day, I too would feel the same about revisiting my childhood home.

I'm older now, so I can recall my childhood. But when we're young, we don't really think about those things because we are creating those memories. It's only in reflecting, do we fully appreciate the story of our childhood and the house we grew up in. And that's not to say my childhood was without hardships, because it most definitely did. However, whenever I think back, I only see what was good, and realize there was a purpose to those hardships. They gave me everything I needed to live my adulthood.

Therefore, what I feel is tremendous gratitude. 

And if I had the chance to rearrange my childhood different from what it was, I wouldn't change a single thing.

And I truly mean that. 

My childhood was my childhood, and I accept it. I don't lament over the choices my parents made in raising me, or how other people treated me. Because in retrospect, I can clearly see that all things played out as they were supposed to and I learned from them. And continue to learn. So there is nothing to lament. 

Several weeks ago, I was talking with my younger brother on the phone and discussing our childhood; primarily our parents. At one point I said to him, "Tom, do you realize how lucky we are to have had the parents that were given to us? Was our childhood always smooth sailing? No. But the smooth parts outweighed the bumpy parts. And I know they loved us. That's all that really matters." 

The reason I'm sharing this post today is because I've been healing certain things from my childhood over the past several months and finding peace. And watching this movie again contributed to that healing. I believe that healing is a continual process that comes in waves throughout our lives. Even at 66, I'm still riding the waves. And that's a positive thing, because with each wave comes clarity and release.

Seeing 'The Trip to Bountiful' reminded me of when I first moved back to Philadelphia in 2001 and became friends with a woman who had a car, who generously offered to drive me to my childhood home in Warminster, PA, to see it again. It was quite emotional. I took several photos of the house, but they somehow got lost. Yet, (thanks to Google Maps), I found the house and took screenshots to share with you. 

And I've got to be honest, even looking at these screenshots made me teary-eyed. Seeing the house again brought back a flood of memories that went straight to my heart. And although the house has long been sold and is no longer our home, I feel that it still is because much of my childhood was harvested there. 

Strange as this may sound, I believe a house is a living, breathing vessel that holds the memories of whoever lived in it. 

So, allow me to show you the home in which I grew up during my childhood.

By the way, isn't it funny how when we were kids, everything seemed so much bigger? Like this house. It's not exactly small. However, I remember it being so much LARGER... 

It was a split-level house, with four bedrooms, three bathrooms and one powder room, a basement, den, kitchen, living room and dining room. My parents had a fireplace built (in the den) about a year after we moved in. They also added a second driveway. 

Whoever purchased it after us, added another room because where you see the window (directly in front of the car), that used to be a garage.

The house was on a corner lot with quite a bit of property. It was a bitch to mow and garden during the summer months. My mother and I would sometimes switch chores; she would do my yardwork and I would do her housework. She loved to garden. I loved to vacuum and dust. LOL!...

The cute faux brick well you see in the yard photo below, my father had constructed a few years before we moved from Pennsylvania to Florida. As kids, we not only had fun playing around the well (pretending we fell into it), but we'd also decorate it during Halloween and Christmas...

The new owners added the awning over the backyard patio. When we lived there, the patio had a low brick wall around it. I actually prefer the awning... 

 

Here is a panoramic view of the side of the house and the backyard. Gosh, I can't tell you how many summer barbeques we would have in that yard with family members and friends. I remember running around with lit sparklers on the 4th of July. Our house had a revolving front door. My parents loved to invite people into our home and socialize...

When I look at this house, the memories of my childhood come back like it was yesterday. 

And I smile. 

And I'm grateful.

And I can still feel the love.

Thank you, house!

And thank you all for taking this childhood flashback with me!

💗