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Sunday, July 10, 2011

A Different Kind of Dream Home



Those of you that know me well know that I grew up in Grayson, Kentucky, and that my parents still live in the house they built when my mom was pregnant with me. The only moving I did when I was younger was from room to room (to room to room!) in this house. All of my Christmases, nearly every Thanksgiving and Easter, and even most of my ordinary days have happened within those walls.There are memories in every room, fading high pinball scores on the cement walls in the basement, hidden messages written on closet walls, and somewhere a diamond and sapphire ring Mom let me borrow once (I SWEAR I just shook my hand and it flew off.  Where is that damn thing?!?!)
So maybe two decades of life and memories are why, after not living there for eleven years, when I dream about "home" this is the house that appears.  It's really bizarre.  It's not like I don't dream about other places either.  This winter I got snowed in at the Frat House one night, and that night I dreamed about: the Frat House.  A couple of weeks ago, before Megan high tailed it out of Kentucky forever, I went to visit and stayed in her condo (or as she so lovingly calls it: shoebox), and that night I dreamed about her condo. But after renting a townhouse for six years, and buying one five years ago, I have never had a dream about "home" that took place anywhere other than 228 Shady Lane. Often (as dreams sometimes do) this house is magically transported to a closer zip code (as I can get there quickly from work, the mall, Commonwealth Stadium, etc) but it still sits atop the wooded hill that holds it in Grayson.  Last night I dreamed I had friends over to my house: friends that I have known for less than a year, and whom my parents have never laid eyes on, but it was the house in Grayson they were coming to, and I even told them when they left late at night that they needed to be careful, because my mom was a light sleeper and could easily hear the front door open from her bedroom.
Maybe my house now doesn't really feel like a home... Maybe I'll have to be gone from there for another ten years before I stop dreaming about it... Or maybe it's just another thing about me that makes me weird...   Whatever the reason, I guess you can file this under "Interesting Facts about Erin"

4 comments:

Megan LeMaster said...

Shady Lane (top of the hill). That is one thing great about a small town you can say, "you know...the pink house" and the mail service and pizza delivery people DO know what you are talking about. Home is where the heart is and I can't think of a better place than Shady Lane.

Jennifer Malone said...

You're right Megan! Shady Lane is a pretty good place!

Christopher Cool said...

Erin, I know exactly what you mean. I have been away from that house for a lot longer than you have, and it wasn't until Tammie that I had any situation in my life to think of as "home" that WASN'T 228 Shady Lane. But even then, when I married Tammie, it wasn't that my concept of "home" changed to my house with her; it was simply that I doubled up and have two such places now. :-)

(And correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the highest of the fading chalk-wrought high pinball scores on the basement walls MINE?)

Erin Lynne said...

Chris I didn't say they were mine... Of course I didn't say they *weren't* either! ;)