Learning From The Memories.

15 Feb

A few days ago, my parents told me that they’ve put our South Carolina house on the market. Though I’m looking forward to having my parents closer to me, another part of me knows that it may take a while to call our mountain house “home.” Though I’d pick living in Saluda over St. Matthews any day, I grew up in St. Matthews. It was my home for a long time.

No matter how many times I say that I’m happy that I won’t need to go back to St. Matthews once my parents are in Saluda, there are so many memories that St. Matthews holds that no amount of time in another place will be able to replace. Playing t-ball at the baseball field on the end of our street, finding a family through getting involved in theater with the Calhoun Players, riding my various go-karts around the block again and again, driving up and down the street in my Barbie Jeep, learning to drive my first car, the ice storm that lead to my dad and I going to get pizza from the Pantry. All my great birthday parties growing up, getting to be a “flyer” on the cheerleading team when I was really little, catching frogs in the “pond” behind the Piggly Wiggly after a big rain, the Purple Martin Festival, discovering my love of writing, spending the Saturdays of summer at the small county library, making mud pies in the backyard, running through the wildflowers in the back lot, cracking pecans, swinging in the old tire swing in the back lot, my dad rocking me in his mom’s rocking chair on the nights when I couldn’t sleep, sitting out on the screen porch listening to a summer thunderstorm, making brownies in the kitchen with mom and always wanting to lick the bowl. I could go on forever…

It’s times like these, when the memories run through my head like a slide show, that I get nostalgic. It used to amaze me that a certain place could hold so much emotion, but now I understand. There are 16 years of memories there, and they’re not going anywhere. Though I’ll take them with me wherever I go in my life, they belong there….in the small town that I always wanted to get away from and did get away from when I was 16. I don’t doubt that when I visit in the future, the memories will come back once I take that 136 exit off of I-26 to the place that I called home for so long. I’ll drive down my street, and it’ll feel weird….it’ll feel weird that time hasn’t stopped…it’ll feel weird knowing that someone else is living in our house…using my bedroom..playing in my back yard…and making memories in a place that held all the cherished moments of my own childhood.

At the same time, I’ve always had a strong connection with the mountains, and so I understand why my parents would also want to call the mountains home. As a family, we used to always make trips up to Saluda to get away, so I have a feeling it’ll take some time to not imagine taking a “trip” to Saluda. However, I’ve called the mountains (Asheville, in my case) home since August, and it’s been amazing. I’ve loved every second of it, and being among such beautiful landscapes has helped me gain perspective, while also giving me the opportunity of discovering myself some more. It’s a strange feeling….knowing that every day I’m coming closer to fully discovering who I’m supposed to be in this world. It’s exciting and scary, but the only way is forward. So, to all the memories that have taken up a permanent residence in my heart: Thanks for teaching me about life, what it means to love, the importance of friends and family. But most of all, thanks for providing me with courage, insane amounts of love to give to those around me, laughter, and hope. And showing me the importance of branching out, chasing my dreams, and ultimately, following my heart to the true place that it belongs.

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10 Responses to “Learning From The Memories.”

  1. Wondering Wanderer February 15, 2012 at 5:27 pm #

    It’s always difficult when memories become truly memories and we have a new place to call home. South Carolina has some incredible places (i live near Columbia).

  2. yogikarenk February 15, 2012 at 6:36 pm #

    Lovely memories and your words bring them alive : )

  3. Laura February 15, 2012 at 7:05 pm #

    Oh I know what you mean 100%. As a kid I didn’t have 1 “home”, my mom lived with her parents and my dad lived with his parents so a lot of time I was back and forth between the two grandparents houses. When I was in the 8th grade mom finally got out and we had our own home, so I have really strong memories from mainly my paternal grandparent’s house, and the house that mom rented while I was in high school. But my grandparents passed away in 2009 and last year their house was sold and it kills me, thinking of other people in their home, where I did so much thinking and learning and growing. It’s a strange feeling!

  4. Anita S February 15, 2012 at 7:23 pm #

    I lived in several places as a child, but each one has special memories for me. Since I’ve become an adult, I’ve visited a few of them, and like you said, I marveled at the thought of other people living in ‘our’ houses — even if they weren’t ours for very long.
    I find that my childhood memories are very distinct, unlike recent years that seem too much alike to really differentiate (since 1999 I identify years by the month I went to the mental hospital that year — lol).

  5. chaconrafa February 15, 2012 at 9:54 pm #

    Memories are clear memories of unique and highly emotional times

    Love your site

    Peace and Blessings

  6. jilllurie February 15, 2012 at 11:27 pm #

    Beautifully said!

  7. Katrina February 16, 2012 at 9:30 am #

    I understand how you feel, I’m probably older than your parents, and I have moved numerous times in my life. Each place holds memories and now I live in a completely different state with people of a different culture than what I grew up with. However, I still think about my childhood home and often feel some nostalgia. This is your love for your childhood and the safety you felt there. It’s all good.

  8. CorinaWrites February 16, 2012 at 10:04 am #

    We had to sell my childhood home after my grandparents died, and it broke my heart. The house was in bad shape but it was still packed full of memories. That Miranda Lambert song – The House That Built Me – makes me bawl every time I hear it, because that’s what it reminds me of!

    • ameliaclaire92 February 16, 2012 at 10:07 am #

      Yeah, I actually listened to The House That Built Me yesterday.

  9. ailialana February 16, 2012 at 4:00 pm #

    I had a conversation with my sisters recently about our ‘home place.’ Everyone’s experience and perception was different. Funny that given it was the same house!

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