Grandma's Little Pink House

My Grandma lived in a small town in Ohio when I was growing up. It was a two story farm house in the town center. She lived there most of my life. This house was the center meeting place for my Mom's very large family. Aunts, Uncles and scores of cousins. The house was pink and like my grandma, bigger than life. My grandma passed in the late 90s and moved  out of the pink house more than10 years before that. The house was sold and painted white and maybe gray, can't remember. Then the house went into complete disrepair.

One day, a little over a year ago, one of my cousins posted some pictures on Social Media. It was of the dilapidated house in the first two picture.

 

First, I saw the above two pictures. Although the pictures were depressing seeing this dilapidated old house that looked nothing like the Little Pink House of my childhood. Nothing could have prepared me for the next pictures.

My Grandma's little pink house was a pile of rubble.

A few months after my cousin's social media post, my Husband and I went to Florida to visit my sisters. One day we were visiting my sister "Lynn's" house (I try not to use my families first names for privacy) and she brought out a box of pieces of wood. Lynn had called our cousin and asked her if she would be able to get seven pieces of wood from Grandma's house to give to each of our siblings. My cousin actually went dumpster diving to get the wood.

A few of the boards from Grandma's House.

 It was such a great surprise. We then saw a great craft project in the making. We cleaned up all the boards, bought supplies and threw around ideas. We didn't have time for our project during our Florida visit, but here are the finished projects.

My sister Jean's creation 

Lynn's house board creation.

This was one of the boards Lynn made for our 3 brothers and our oldest sister.

After seeing my cousin's post, I wrote this poem about My Grandma's house. At the end is a picture of my board creation.

Grandma’s Little Pink House

Dad at the wheel and Mom by his side
Kids in the back with the windows rolled down
Driving East on I70, at 13 we turn South
The scenery changes from the big city to small town
On our way to see Grandma in her Little Pink House

Dad slows as we enter the town of Somerset
His mother lives there and so we take a quick break
Back on the road and past Aunt Adele’s house
Around Somerset circle and past General Sheridan’s estate
On our way to see Grandma in her Little Pink House

As we enter New Lex and past Monument Park
Up the big hill with St Rose Church at the top
One block to School Ave with the red corner house
And Buck’s store where we shop for a cone and a pop
On our way to see Grandma in her Little Pink House

As we turn onto School Ave and look to the left
There stands our destination in a pretty pastel hue
Where cousins are waiting on the porches stone ledge
Receiving our greeting from the whole Williams crew
On our arrival to see Grandma in her Little Pink House

Out of the car, we arrive with such joy
Enter the slamming screen door to the arms of loved ones
We are greeted with excitement and smells that delight
Homemade noodles, pies and the World’s best cinnamon buns
We are finally inside Grandma’s Little Pink House

I treasure the memories from visits long ago
The holidays and parties we celebrated together
Week long stays with Aunts, Uncles and Cousins
Fair square dancing and reunions in the warm Summer weather
All on our stays at Grandma’s Little Pink House

Our Matriarch has passed in her late 90’s years ago
She was larger than life, loved cards and played poker
Her gruff coughing laugh was a sound of great joy
She was funny and loving and the worlds biggest chain smoker
I miss our visits to Grandma’s Little Pink House

The years had not been kind to that lovely old house
The color had changed from pink to white to an ugly old gray
It looked tattered and worn, barely able to stand
The fear that the structure may suddenly give way
This was the fate of Grandma’s Little Pink House

The lot on School Ave now sadly sits vacant
News had arrived from a cousin several weeks ago
Pictures of a excavator and dumpster surrounded by rubble
My heart was broken and oh how the tears did flow
How I will miss my Grandma’s Little Pink House

There are always those places that take a hold of our heart
Where the memories of your youth are filled with love
You recall all the sounds and smells that still fill your dreams
And the special people that your family is made of

Now those memories will include Grandma’s Little Pink House

This was my house board. Notice the color of the word House!