Memories Not for Sale!

Today marks the end of a long chapter in the book about the Russell family. Today marks the point at which the house my grandpa built is not longer his, is no longer in the family and is now the home of another family. Today is a hard day for my mom and her sisters, and on a lesser note, for the rest of us. My grandpa, with his brothers, built this house. Throughout the years it's seen some changes, but nothing major. My grandpa was proud of this house he built for his family. It is strong, sturdy and pretty. It's the only house my mom ever knew as a child as she was 1 year old when it was finished.

The house has gone from a big cement block as a front porch, to a nicer wood porch, to a nice deck made out of fake "wood" which will stand the test of time. The yard has seen trees planted and some of those trees cut down. The house has seen no patio out back, then a white and red brick patio to a nice deck made out of the same fake "wood" as the front! The house has gone from hardwood floors, to carpet (I remember best the brown marbled carpet) and has seen countless feet walking through it.

This house has been used as a home for the Russell family, a place for countless parties from birthdays to graduations to let's-just-get-together-just-because parties. This house has heard crying, yelling, prayers, laughter. Good times, bad times, in between times. Times of little money and times of being able to breath comfortably. This house has seen a lot of life and unfortunately the death of it's two owners, my grandparents.

The memories made in this house are endless. Some are remembered by all, some are remembered by only a few (my aunts always claim my mom grew up in a different house then they did). I think most, if not all, of us grandchildren have mowed the lawn (Grandpa insisting on staying in 1st gear on the riding lawnmower. Did he know that we all kicked it up a few notches when he went inside?), raked the leaves, and helped clean the inside. We've played tag, had Easter egg hunts, shucked corn, played basketball, baseball, frisbee, croquette and bocci ball. We've climbed the trees, eaten the plums and apples from those trees and grew gardens in the back. We've all seen "the big rock" and were all disappointed that as time goes on it seems to get smaller.

There are not enough words to say all of the memories we have in this house. Thankfully, those memories are not for sale. The house will move on to a new owner, a new family who will make new memories. Thankfully, we do not have to give them ours. We can hold on to them and cherish them and share them with our children.

And now, as the "kids" become the grandparents and the "grandkids" become the parents we move on from South Plaza Drive and begin making new memories for this next generation of grandkids, who will never know their great-grandpa and great-grandma Russell, but will know about them because our memories are not for sale.