Almost Home
Saturday, May. 24, 2003 3:48 pm
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It was that kind.

It wasn't very exciting though, I only dreamt that I was in my Gran's old house, the house that I grew up in. It began with James and I, we were in a car and turned down the road to my Gran's house.It was a narrow crushed clam shell lane, along the marsh, where the tall grass and purple heather gave way to a tiny cove. James was driving, and I was in the passenger seat. When we pulled into the driveway, I swear it felt like I was coming home. It was the weirdest thing, since I never actually lived there, though I visited every weekend, holiday, and summer. When I got out of the car I could smell the ocean... It was very detailed, most of the dream I was just pointing everything out for James,

There is the garden where my Gran grew her roses. I used to love to pick bunches of lilacs and bleeding hearts for her...

There are the swings under the porch where Jenny and I would sit when it was too hot to move...

There is the stump of the three hundred year old willow tree that was knocked over in a hurricane, we used to pretend it was a fairy ring...

There is the burnt shell of the barn, where my daddy kept his horse. He used to take me riding with him along the beach, before he died...

There is my Gran's vegtable garden. She grew lots of things, but my favorties were her corn, swisschard, squash, and tomatoes. I used to run down and pick tomatoes for us, and she'd wash them and salt them and we'd eat them like apples, they were the best I'd ever tasted, still warm from the sun...

There on that side of the house, in the summer my uncles would take pot shots at the woodchucks from the porch...

There is the basement where we'd play hide and seek, and keep my Grandpa company while he made apple wine...

There, those waterstains on the beams of our second story deck? That's how high the cove flooded during a hurricane, the same one that knocked our tree down. My grandpa had to moor the boat right against the house...

There on the deck, that's where me and my cousin's would curl together in a blanket on cool summer nights, drifting off to the sounds of our parents laughing and singing into the early morning hours...

There in that kitchen, is where I first learned to cook...

There by the window, is the rocking chair where my daddy would sing to me...

There, under that table, in the dining room we would all hide, watching the grown ups through the glass, smudging our fingerprints everywhere til Gran sighed in exasperation, thinking about the cleaning she'd have to do the next day...

There in the den, was where Gran and I would watch movies and read, on the nights Grandpa had to work late...

And there, up those stairs is the bedroom I used to sleep in, in the bed that was my daddy's...

There, across the hall, is my Gran's room, where I would play dress up, and paint my face...

There, in that living room below, is the place where my daddy died...

There in that house is my childhood.

It was a very nice dream. I almost cried when I woke up.

I loved that house so much.

Artwork © Jessica Galbreth