This Old House

I know it’s silly, but I’ve been obsessing over this house my dad’s Aunt and Uncle used to live in. This is the house we lived in for a couple months when we first moved from Idaho to California. I spent pretty much all of my Christmases and other holidays in this house. I got the chicken pocks in this house. I remember climbing the avocado tree in the front yard every time we visited. I remember the rust stains in the bathroom tub downstairs, and being worried about them when my mom bathed me in that tub. I can imagine each room and what the layout of the house was. I don’t remember a lot of things from being a kid, but I remember this house.

My Uncle Tom was the ranch manager for the property around this house, so he and Aunt Verda lived in this house. It was surrounded by Orange and Lemons trees. At pretty much every family get together, Uncle Tom would gather up all the cousins and he would drive us around the orchards. I remember sitting on the tailgate of the El Camino while the older cousins took turns driving. One particular time out, my cousin Tommy was holding on to the back of the tail gate and sliding his feet along the ground, letting the car pull him along. I thought that looked like fun, so I gave it a go. I landed on my face. Tommy was kind enough to alert the teenage driver that I had fallen and was running to catch up and hop back on. Well, by the time I had caught up, the driver slammed on the brakes and the tail gate slammed into my stomach. Not fun, but it worth a good laugh remembering the incident now.

Every Christmas Eve, the local radio station would broadcast the arrival of Santa Claus. All of the cousins would tune in to hear how far away Santa was from bringing us our presents. When he was close, we could go sit up on the roof of the house and wait to see him drive by. A helicopter decorated as “Santa’s Sleigh” would fly through the sky, and as a kid, it was magical to think I just saw Santa fly by on his way to my house. When we came back inside, one of the Uncles would be downstairs, dressed as Santa Claus and hand out our presents. It’s memories like these that motivate me to make childhood as exciting and imaginative as possible for my own little ones.

This past weekend I made my mom drive me past the house. I was curious to know if it was still there. It was sure enough still there, but it is now owned be a wealthy farming family in the area, so there is a gate around it. I did sneak my arms inside to catch a picture, but I didn’t get to explore around it like I had hoped. It’s crazy to think that it’s been over twenty years since I was able to step foot in that house. I wonder if the Nakamura’s ever think about the memories that were made in that house before they owned it. It’s a very old house, so I am guessing even before my Aunt and Uncle’s time in that house, the walls already possessed memories and shared moments from many lives before ours. I hope that the family that lives in that home now will take away as much joy and warmth as I hold in recalling my times in that home.