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No sounds could be heard, either upstairs or down. As I looked around, the walls were bare and colorless like an empty canvas waiting for splashes of color to fill up the spaces. I squeezed my eyes and tried to focus on the memories, the special moments that filled up the rooms for so many years.
I shook my head and walked toward the back of the house. Looking out the kitchen window, I saw what had once been saplings now standing tall and offering shade and a cool relief from the hot summer sun. Once again, I squeezed my eyes and I saw it - the swing set that took us flying into the clouds, to places of mystery that only little ones could visit. I smelled the fresh air after a rain storm and tasted the ice cold fruit drinks that welcomed us mid-afternoon.
Walking out to the veranda, I saw in my memory multi-colored leaves racing in the wind and then falling to the ground. Oh, the joy of jumping into the giant piles of crunchy leaves that the trees sent down to us! In the distance, there was the sound of a band playing songs to cheer on the local football team. This Saturday afternoon tradition brought throngs of fans to bleachers no matter what the weather. Their enthusiasm never dimmed.
Back inside the house, my mind caught a glimpse of our Christmas tree standing regally in the living room. I remembered the fragrance that only comes once a year, on Christmas morning. The scent of the Christmas tree was always more enhanced as that special day dawned. I heard the giggles of delight as packages were unwrapped and treasures were discovered. Glancing outside, my eyes seemed to detect a Currier and Ives Christmas scene and I could almost hear sleigh bells ringing.
Once again, I stepped outside and breathed in the salt air drifting up from the ocean just miles away. I remember scurrying around gathering towels and sunscreen and all the items we loaded into our beach bags before we went off for hours of sun-bathing under the brightly colored beach umbrellas. When we got hungry, there were hot dogs and root beer that somehow never tasted as good anywhere else.
But, always, we returned at the end of each day to our home. It was filled with warmth and love and faith. But it was the people inside who nurtured those feelings. The wonderful old home provided the place in which my family could grow and love one another, but it was the family who made it a home.
The memories created there remain alive in my mind and in my heart. The moving truck that is about to arrive cannot carry those memories away. They will stay with me until the day of my permanent move when I will go to our Family Home in Heaven.
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