Memories of My Childhood Home
I remember driving by it so slowly and trying to remember some of my childhood in that house. As I’ve mentioned before I don’t remember a lot about my childhood but sometimes things do come back to me.
I was able to find this picture using Google Earth of the house we used to live in back in 1963 before moving to Florida. Looking at this Google Earth photo, things came to mind just as they did when I drove past the house the last time I visited Ohio.
It seems so small now and when I was a child, it seemed so big and gigantic. The front yard going out to the highway was so far away back then but when I look at this photo view, it’s not far at all. Obviously it’s winter time when the picture was taken because all of the trees are dead. I remember climbing this tree. It looks like it’s ready to fall down if anyone tried to climb it now (see picture).
The driveway looks like it is the original hot mix asphalt that my Daddy put down. I remember walking across that hot mix and burning my feet. I was always getting hurt in some way or another.
As you came in the driveway, we had a garden on the right. There wasn’t a fence where there is one now but of course I’m remembering back 54 years. We only grew vegetables for ourselves.
It looks at though there is now a wheelchair ramp leading up to the side door that wasn’t there before. I remember playing outside the door with an empty bottle of Prell shampoo and I dropped it. It was a glass bottle and yes, I stepped on a piece of glass and cut my foot.
In the back of the house was a root cellar that my Mom let me decorate and use as a playhouse. From the picture, it doesn’t look like it’s still there. I recall it being so cold down in the cellar. I guess that’s why they could keep canned food there without spoiling.
It’s not clear but there used to be an outhouse at the far end of the driveway, in front of where the truck is now. I don’t think that it’s still there after all these years. Did you ever have to use an outhouse? Ick, I hated that.
We had our family dinners here every Sunday. My grandparents, my aunts and uncles, my sisters, brother in laws, nieces, nephews and cousins were all there.
One last memory I have of this house is November 25, 1963 watching the funeral procession after John Fitzgerald Kennedy, our 35th President was assassinated. I watched this with my Dad and my grandfather and 54 years later, I can still hear the clip-clop of the horses hooves as they pulled the caisson carrying the Presidents body through the streets of Washington DC and the somber sound of Taps being played.
This was the first time, at 6 years old that I was aware of death and aware of what a President was and the sorrow and devastation our country went through that week.
© 2017 Copyright, Monna Ellithorpe
This story was written from the Weekly Writing Prompt 7/25/2017 – (2) Write about a return visit to your childhood home.
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