Once again it is Monday. I am at work trying to get through my To Do List. So far 5 out of 10 things remain. The weekend was ok. Spent some quality time with the husband, did some scrapbooking, and went to my Nana's to help her move. This is my rant.
My granmother has lived in the same house for about 20 years. As far back as I can remember she has always lived in the same house. When I was little the house always seemed so huge to me. I remember the very moment when I walked in to her house and it felt so small. Since that realization I have gotten used to the real size of the house. So this is the story. My Nana is getting up there, and she is living alone at the time. My aunt recently separated from her husband an is living in her big house all by herself, so my Nana will be moving in. So she decides that all the kids and grankids should come over to her house and get the things that we want so that she doesnt have to divide everything up before she dies. I hate the reality that she is going to always be here.
So, I was over there this weekend, and this time the house didnt feel small to me anymore...it felt empty. I didnt want to take anything from her. But she insisted that I had to leave with something. The smell was even different. My cousin was there and we were going through old pictures and reminising and I realized that there will never be another birthday party, or christmas party or family get together at that house ever again. It will always be somewhere else. This is truly an end of a thick chapter in the book of my family. To my family, Nana's House, the meaning, and experiences that have taken place are equivalent to the Bible. Unfortunately it has to be done. It is what Nana wants and that is what she will get.
