Once Upon a Time: True Stories of an Aspiring Writer

4: The House(s) We Grew Up In

 "I WANT TO MOVE," I told my mom one day, as I was playing on the driveway. 

I was in second grade. Christine had changed schools, but that was okay. I had other people to talk to and a teacher that made you feel like you were learning rather than being in a classroom. I had Leigh, my new school bus friend, to spend long bus rides with. I also had a new baby sister, Emily. Emily was generally a happy baby who loved to smile and giggle and watch Teletubbies till our ears and eyes bled. 

Life was good, but it was about to turn upside down. 

"Why?" Mom said, responding to my statement. "We wouldn't see Katie and William anymore. You wouldn't see Chase anymore." She sounded disappointed. Realizing I said something silly, I put the thought from my mind. 

To tell you the truth, I was more interested in the prospect of riding in the back of a moving van. We'd all do it together, sitting in the back of a huge, cool truck on its way to our new house. Sounded fun! 

But maybe the idea wasn't so silly after all. The house was going to get smaller. A real estate sign appeared in our front yard one day, and we found ourselves looking for houses. One of them smelled like burned plastic but had cool gymnastics equipment in the basement. Another one was in a classmate's neighborhood and had a cool view, which my parents didn't like because there was too much traffic behind it. Yet another had a small white rug in the bathroom that was fun to rub my feet against. 

Everyone was about to make some moves. Life would change as my young mind knew it!

***

Meanwhile, at Grandma and Grandpa's house, we were the bosses.

If I had one word to describe their house, it would be "ugly-charming." Grandma with a touch of gloom, if you will. That's probably because it was dark. It was a strange house, but I can't point my finger as to why. 

They lived in a Dutch colonial that didn't have a ton of natural light, and the darkly painted walls didn't help. Although we spent cozy times there, it was hard for me to imagine it belonging to anyone other than grandparents. 

We'd always enter by knocking on the side door that led to a large laundry room. We'd greet each other before stepping into the kitchen and then the living room. The small-ish living room had wooden beams on the ceiling, a wall-to-wall brick fireplace on the end, and a sliding door leading to the side porch. We sat on old-fashioned blue and white plaid couches---Grandma's colors. It was just enough to sit seven comfortably. 

The best place to be? The screened-in porch. It was a great place to sit, especially on the glider, talking or playing with Grandma's decorative robin eggs. We spent much of our time there. The three of us girls--- Kelly, Emily, and I—all had a big, bright pink ball to play with in the backyard as well. In the spring, deep pink cherry trees blossomed by the side entrance and we'd peel petals down and toss them around like we were flower girls in a wedding. Next door, there was a lazy-L pool. I loved playing in my grandparents' backyard, but I would look at that pool with envy. I wanted one, too. 

We also played moon monsters there, on the big oak tree in the center of the yard. There was a blue baby swing that we squeezed into for as long as we could hanging from a branch. Grandma would do the countdown while pulling the swing back, and on "Blast off!" she'd let go and started pushing me. 

Eventually the swing would come to a stop, where we'd get off and explore the "moon." Grandpa would sometimes pretend to be a moon monster and chase me back to the swing. Kelly got scared of the moon monsters, though, and this game eventually ended. I was already too big for the swing.

Most of our interactions were inside, though. 

Grandma had what I thought was a funny way of mispronouncing words. "Scissors" was pronounced as "skissors" and "tissues" was said like "teese-ewes." I would try to correct Grandma, giggling. The conversation might go something like this: