Home Is Really Where the Heart Is

If These Heels Could Talk they would say, "home really is where the heart is."

I am going to share something that some may not believe and then again some may can relate.  There is not one single house/trailer/dwelling that I CAN REMEMBER  living in that is still present.  In other words all of the places that I grew up in and can still remember are gone. They were torn down, pushed over and demolished. 

The interesting thing about this is although the structures are not there I can close my eyes and be right back in those places.  Each one of them were so much more than walls, floors, bolts, joists, paneling, tile, carpet, etc........ They were home but they were home because of the memories that were made there. 

One in particular housed a lot of memories.  I have written about it in some of my other stories.  It was a single wide trailer that sat on cinder blocks.  It was two bedrooms and one bath.  I shared a room with my two brothers. The room was just big enough to hold their set of bunk beds, my twin bed and a four drawer dresser.  It had two front doors but one of them we considered a back door because it was at the back of the trailer.  When my brothers would start to tussel my mom would panic and start yelling, "stop it before you turn the trailer over."  I was always freaked out about that. Mainly because we had no real "septic" tank just a pipe that my dad referred to as the "poop" pipe that ran several feet out the back into the woods. There is probably oil there now. 

There was no grass around this home just Georgia red clay.  We never had to worry about cutting grass because there was none to be cut.  There was a washing machine broken down that sat out side the back door and then there was a broken down refrigerator that sat outside the front door.  Sometimes you could find a "plant" or two growing on that refrigerator.  This home sat only a few hundred feet from the Flint River. 

The bathroom was well adorned with a few holes from the shot out plumbing that we had.  But my mother always made sure that the holes were covered with the prettiest Kmart throw rug.  We knew to straddle the holes in order to prevent injury.  The door to the bathroom was off the hinges however if you wanted any privacy while doing the do you just leaned it up against the wall.  Let's face it there was no privacy because well it was a single wide trailer. 

My dad paid $500.00 for that trailer and pulled it there with a tractor.  So that right there tells you the quality and value of the structure itself, however the memories are priceless.

This is where I lived the day my dad got caught running moonshine.  Talk about embarrassing.  I was in the sixth grade and it wasn't bad enough that my brothers and I were called Swamp Rats already, now throw that in the mixture and we were true Swamp Rats. 

This is where I lived when I found out there was no Santa Claus. 
This is where I lived when my heart broke for the first time because of a stupid boy. 
This is where I lived when my grandmother passed away.
This is where I lived when I learned how to swim. This is where I lived when I learned that sometimes a friend to your face is not a friend behind your back.
This is where I lived when I also learned that a true friend doesn't care what you live in they like you for who you are and not what you have. 
This is where me and my brother drove barbies in a truck around the tree out front.
This is where I lived when I learned how to fry fish all the while standing in a chair. 
I watched my mom cry here and I watched my mom laugh here. 
I witnessed many family gatherings under that same tree out front and watched my dad work on an engine there. 

The memories go on and on..... they are never ending some are good and some are bad..... nevertheless they are there and they are valuable yet priceless. I can't wait to share some of the stories with my grandchildren one day.