There are several things that have impacted my design style over the years, one of which is my grandma’s house. Not because it was so impeccably decorated (think carpeting in rust orange, avocado green, and every other color that was remotely popular in the 60s), but because it was charming, cozy, and a place where many sweet memories were made. My grandma lived in the same house from when she was five years old until the day she passed away. I love thinking about her childhood there, my dad’s childhood there, and the memories I have of visiting.
I recently came across some pictures of her house on our old laptop, and I thought I’d share them. To start with: the porches. We spent countless hours sitting on the front porch talking to neighbors passing by, or the back porch listening to the bug zapper (just keeping it real- my grandma loved that thing!). I love thinking back to these quiet, simple times.
(My mom is holding me in this picture- the bald baby in the superman pose.)
Next stop: the attic. This was always one of the first places I ran to after walking through the door. I loved looking through my grandma’s attic (probably why I can’t get enough of flea market shopping). There was always a new picture to look at, dress to try on, or gadget to ask about.
Another one of my favorite places to explore was the basement. It had a wonderful, musty smell. Unlike the attic, which was more of my grandma’s domain, the basement belonged to my grandpa. A product of the Great Depression, my papap was notorious for hiding cash in random places around the house. A few years after he passed away, I found an old tin Band-Aid box hidden deep within the basement shelves.
It’s sometimes hard to think about a new family living in the place that seemed to belong only to us. Thankfully, the things that truly make a house a home- the people and the memories we shared- can stay with us in our hearts.
This post is a part of Tuesdays Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky.