Highland Home- a house of memories

Young grandma.

Memories. 
Are they only in my head? 
They come and go.
Objects, smells, people, and sounds are triggers.
Emotions and thoughts are effects.
I do not understand where they come from. 
Yet, I do not want them to go.
How many can my brain hold?
Will there always be room for more?
Memories.

1957

My grandparent's house is going to have a For Sale sign in front of it soon. Every weekend my family meets at their house to organize and sort through their stuff. My grandpa said two Saturdays ago, "Save, save, save. That was my motto." As you can imagine, they have quite a bit of stuff.

With that stuff, however, comes memories. There are over 52 years of memories in the house. It is the house my father and his brothers grew up in. The place my family would go most Christmases until my grandma got sick.

Learning to knit.

While going through each room, I have had to pause at times because different memories have been brought to mind. Each item I had seen before triggered a memory. From the Sorry game to a certain sweater my grandma wore. Every pair of knitting needles and skein of yarn we found reminded me of my grandma's kind spirit. Even the large caramel corn tin brought to mind her hospitable side.

There were also items that brought up questions. We found a confirmation letter for my grandparent's honeymoon at a resort near my family's cabin. Why did they decide to go there?

We also found journals where my grandma would only write one or two sentences each day. What made her want to keep track of her days like that? Did she intend for people to read her? Did she want her experiences to be memories people remembered?

 I am 23 and I already have thousands of memories. I cannot imagine what my grandpa has been going through as he watches us sort through his stuff.

Oh the memories from the home in Highland. The stuff might be thrown away or taken to a new house, but the memories will continue on.