I walked into grandma’s house today

It wasn’t my grandma’s house, and it probably wasn’t your grandma’s house, but it was someone’s grandma. It looked as if she had only just left and we should expect her return at any moment, yet somehow I knew that she would never return. In spite of her absence the clocks on the wall continued to tick and the heater clicked on as the temperature dipped. I could see which spot on the davenport was her favorite. Faded fibers stretched thin from decades of use. I wondered if that was where she did her knitting, or crocheting or whatever it is that grandmother’s do with yarn and thread. Maybe that’s the spot she read through the mounds of books that were stacked throughout the house, or it’s possible she didn’t like to read, but instead enjoyed watching ‘her stories’ on a tv set far older than I. In the kitchen I could imagine her huddled over the little stove cooking, baking, frying eggs for breakfast. The dishes in the cupboard screamed 1956 and reminded me of dishes my own grandmother had once had. The pantry was stocked full of soups and cereals that had obviously been purchased only a few months prior. The basement was a sight to behold. Floor to ceiling of stuff told the story of a woman who had obviously grown up and lived through the depression where nothing was wasted and nothing was thrown out. A mound of clothes 4 feet high, stretched through the middle of the basement 12 - 15 feet long. I had never seen anything like it. The basement also showed the amount of history this old, little house contained. If only the walls could talk.

As my coworker and I walked into the tiny bedroom of the bungalow we both sensed it. I’ve never had a feeling quite like it before, but as we stood in the doorway of the bedroom we knew we really weren’t alone. Grandma may have left physically, but she was still here. Inexplicably my coworker blurted out, “she died here” and with the hair at attention on the back of my neck all I could mumble was “I know”. We both knew. We both knew that just a few weeks earlier grandma was standing where we were, we almost felt like intruders. I’m not sure if she was trying to reassure me or herself but my coworker kept telling me “it was a happy home, it’s ok, it was a happy home”. And indeed as far as I could tell, it was.

I’m not sure what will happen to grandma’s house. She unknowningly lived in a now trendy area and young hipsters are bloodthirsty looking for houses like hers. The house that took 50 years or better for her to build a home in, was sold in less than three days. In three weeks all evidence of her existence in the bungalow will be gone. 50 years of building a life, dismantled in a matter of days. Seems a shame. I only hope the memory of her will last indefinitely in the hearts and minds of her children and grandchildren, without that it would truly be a shame.

The info sheet on grandma’s house said it was ‘vacant’, I’d say it was anything but vacant…


  1. EsoPhil said,

    January 15, 2007 @ 12:44 am

    Well written. You definitely have a talent in that department. I have the talent of boring and scaring my readers away :) If nowhere else, at least granny made a small impression on you. Her legacy lives on!

  2. Anthony said,

    January 15, 2007 @ 4:39 am

    WHOA dude…
    That was freaky was I was reading that, but since
    the granny was not a evil granny who was seeking revenge on whosoever walked in after her death, all is well…
    You may continue and go in peace…
    Very nicely stated bruzzzzzzzzzzzz…
    I shall return ..

    __We are the Knights who say Ni__

  3. momma said,

    January 15, 2007 @ 12:29 pm

    Wonderfully written - I could totally picture the setting - wow!!

  4. Phil said,

    January 15, 2007 @ 9:16 pm

    Did you have a client when she shouted “she died here” Does that sell houses? Maybe to some goth yuppies?

  5. mego said,

    January 16, 2007 @ 1:41 pm

    that just seems sad. our life is just a whisper

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