No Place Like Home

I've lived in many places, but a piece of me will always reside at the two story, orange-creamsicle colored house at 946 Peck Avenue. Now vacant, that house holds fond memories from the 20 plus years I lived there with my parents and three brothers. Holidays, graduations and many happy occasions rush forth whenever I think of that place. So do hard times, deaths and the last time I locked the front door behind me with tears in my eyes.

My brothers and I shared hearty laughs as we took turns telling stories from our childhood at the Christmas dinner table. But the giggling stopped when I told them no one lived in our old house anymore. We then took turns trying to figure out why before reaching the same conclusions. Built in the early 1900, the small rooms just can't hold the larger furniture pieces people now own. And I'm sure not having closets in two of the four bedrooms doesn't help either.

But there was always plenty of room for our family and all of the guests who visited us. In our memories we still see our mom, dad and brother alive within those walls. Or the lamp in the living room shining through the curtains waiting for the last one up to turn it off before going to bed. That will always be the Eanes family home. Thank you, God, for the memories.