between four walls

I spent part of my afternoon at 1932 today. Grandma and I spent time going through photos and rearranging art in the dining room. It was much needed; to be in that house, around her, among those things -- pictures of her and the family. Pictures of grandpa, handsome in his navy whites. A picture of the house in Iowa with the attic room long enough for the boys to throw the football indoors and far enough away from the rest of the house for noisy card games on Christmas morning before it was time to unwrap presents.

I spent time running up and down the stairs searching for a few things for our project today. One of my favorite views of Grandma's house is the one from halfway down the stairs, just as your hands hit the banister. The front half of the living room is visible, the mantle, the little desk and chair and the oil painting near Aspen Lane. You can see the alcove where the doorbell chimes hang and the little picture of the sunflowers right beside the latch to the front door. Out the window nearest the fireplace is the side yard where the peonies bloom along the picket fence in the summer, filling the yard with fragrance.

From that fixed point today, I thought, I hope someday to have a home as lovely as this, full of things with meaning and memory. A summation of a life well-lived. A place where children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren can come and sit and stay awhile and listen to stories about Cape Town and Stockholm, Pelham or Brigham. A place to send thank you cards and letters from far away places. A place where wedding pictures gather above bookshelves on the landing upstairs and mementos are tacked up on the bulletin board in the basement bedroom. A home that says hang your hat, rest your head and help yourself to the Snelgroves in the freezer.

Grandma's home is lovely from any angle. I have memories from every nook and cranny in that house. From the green laundry room downstairs to the off-white closet in the room where Mom and Karen used to sleep. I love that house. I love the feeling I get when I walk in the backdoor or drive up the street and see the shutters open or the light on over the sink where the green glass rests on the windowsill. But mostly, I love Grandma. I love who she is, what she has accomplished and the person I want to become after spending together.