Sunday, February 15, 2009

"It ain't worth nothing anyway." She said as if the monetary worth of something was the end all be all.
We were standing at the top of the hill behind the Big House at the edge of what is now my fathers land. From our vantage point the land stretched and rolled below us. The Big House sitting directly in front of us seemed small and frail unlike the house I remembered from my childhood. Its century old walls leaned slightly to the right and the paint was chipped away leaving only the dull grey of weathered wood. My grandmothers box-like house sat far off to the right just beyond a tree line that would have hidden it from view had the trees not been naked. I took in the view as she spoke and shook my head in protest. It was worth something to me, but I had no way of explaining that to her. How do you add up the value of a thousand memories? What is the cost of a balmy summer night hunting fire flies or of an evening spent watching heat lightning from the bed of grandpas old blue Chevy? What value could I ever put on the connection I feel to this place? It doesn't matter to me if it could be sold for a million dollars or ten cents. For me, its value is added up in the memories of a handful of summers that are woven into the fabric of my being. How could I ever put a price on that?

6 comments:

Denise said...

It is the same memories I have of Grandma Potts and her little run down house...... I can still see it in my mind..... and I still grieve over its loss...... I would give a fortune for it today..... Just to walk thorough it's rooms and remember all the wonderful times that me and PE and Larry had there.... I so understand the worth even when others do not see......

Jen said...

Isn't it funny the value we place on memories and the places that hold those memories? I feel the same way. I have such a sense of ownership on places that hold memories for me. I would love for places to stay exactly the same as they were when those memories were created. But, I guess that's part of the process. Nothing can stay exactly the same...and that's probably a good thing.

btw...i need to email you. hopefully tomorrow.

aola said...

everyone needs a piece of ground to belong to... and I guess you have found yours.

The Big House, is that the one you wanted to restore?

Beautiful post.

Cara said...

Wonderful post. There is a piece of land with a house that Cheri and I would probably each sell a kidney for, but it's gone. North Idaho, big open Octagon floorplan.

Katt said...

Ah the days of yesteryear. I know the feeling. There have been times that a certian smell would pass beaneath my nose and it would take me back to Grandmothers house, isnt that odd. I spent many many nights with her growing up. I especially remember how dark it was when we went to bed, couldnt see you hand in front of your face, and I laugh when I think about all the saturday nights she and I spent watching wrestling with Danny Williams.... she loved it and was a riot to watch it with.
Can I put a dollar amount on that... not in your life. It is priceless to me.

McMom said...

Yes! I'm right there with Cara! If I/we could, we would get back our ranch in Idaho! I loved that place and I guess I did not realize how much until it was not in our family anymore. It was so peaceful!