roll with it
A few days ago I took a trip down memory lane. I had to drive to Saint-Bruno to get my tires changed. I was early, so I continued down the 116 to visit my old house in Saint-Hilaire, where I grew up.
We sold it about five years ago when my grandfather moved into a retirement home and my mom bought a condo. It's a big house, with a big yard, and too much work required by either to upkeep. So they sold it to a young couple with little kids who renovated the entire place.
If you've ever gone apple picking in Saint-Hilaire, then you know there's that long stretch of road up the mountain, after you're greeted by the wicker/wire family who's collecting apples. My house is a little in and to the right of them. I turned left onto DeRamsey, the most familiar stretch in Saint-Hilaire, to me anyway, and slowly cruised along. Flashbacks of rainy nights, tears, footstep-counting and bike rides came to me. It's somewhat of a long walk from the 200 bus stop, and as I grew into adolescence I found ways to keep myself occupied as I walked. Counting my footsteps was one of them.
I watched as the houses rolled by, all perfectly frozen in time, and as I approached my old home, I tried to absorb every changed detail of that house, and every memory I've had in the yard. They cut down trees. They got rid of a door. They removed the patio, put the kitchen in the back and updated the windows. It's their home now. I dream of it sometimes, of revisiting the house when the new owners are away, and I'm always so afraid of getting caught. Mostly because I've broken in, but also because I hate that it's changed so much. Houses represent the self in dreams, so take that on and interpret it all you like. For a while they were recurring, haven't had one as of late.
As I was looking at the trees and trying to remember which ones they cut down, I was reminded of the storm we had one year that destroyed a few Maples and traumatized me for life. To say I was a sensitive kid would be an understatement. Hypersensitive is more like it. We had a bad thunderstorm one year and I watched my trees get hit by lightning and fall to the ground. I was crying the whole time. There was nothing I could do to stop it, and nothing my poor mother could do to calm me down. I think we both laughed between tears at how much it affected me. Having climbed and spent time with the trees over so many years, I guess it upset me a whole lot more than anyone else in the family. The after-mess was pretty significant too. Lots of chainsawing into firewood.
I went to grab a sandwich before heading to my car appointment at the Subway restaurant on Wilfrid Laurier. I got out of my car and turned to look at the Serge Pepin IGA across the boulevard and had an Inception moment. Someone planted condos behind the grocery store. Just like that, the skyline had changed, and now huge condos sat where they shouldn't be, these massive, brown structures. Ugly. Out of place. I tried to shake it off and went in to order my sandwich. I was behind a young couple with 2 boys. I thought about what a great place this was to grow up, but started tearing up as I requested a 6 inch veggie on brown please. I looked behind me again and in walked an old couple.
Change, man. Is it ever powerful. I will have to adapt to change forever as I grow older, and I will have to let go of so many things, thoughts and thinking, because life does not remain intact. It made me sad initially, but I watched the old couple helping each other out as I munched on my supper, and admired the gap between the two families eating. Some day those boys will grow up, move out, come home, reminisce, and their parents will retire, grow old, and come back to this place in their hearts, while everything around them continues to move and build and develop. But that place in their hearts is what makes it special. That's the beauty of life right?
Gotta roll with it.
Peace
Katie
We sold it about five years ago when my grandfather moved into a retirement home and my mom bought a condo. It's a big house, with a big yard, and too much work required by either to upkeep. So they sold it to a young couple with little kids who renovated the entire place.
If you've ever gone apple picking in Saint-Hilaire, then you know there's that long stretch of road up the mountain, after you're greeted by the wicker/wire family who's collecting apples. My house is a little in and to the right of them. I turned left onto DeRamsey, the most familiar stretch in Saint-Hilaire, to me anyway, and slowly cruised along. Flashbacks of rainy nights, tears, footstep-counting and bike rides came to me. It's somewhat of a long walk from the 200 bus stop, and as I grew into adolescence I found ways to keep myself occupied as I walked. Counting my footsteps was one of them.
I watched as the houses rolled by, all perfectly frozen in time, and as I approached my old home, I tried to absorb every changed detail of that house, and every memory I've had in the yard. They cut down trees. They got rid of a door. They removed the patio, put the kitchen in the back and updated the windows. It's their home now. I dream of it sometimes, of revisiting the house when the new owners are away, and I'm always so afraid of getting caught. Mostly because I've broken in, but also because I hate that it's changed so much. Houses represent the self in dreams, so take that on and interpret it all you like. For a while they were recurring, haven't had one as of late.
As I was looking at the trees and trying to remember which ones they cut down, I was reminded of the storm we had one year that destroyed a few Maples and traumatized me for life. To say I was a sensitive kid would be an understatement. Hypersensitive is more like it. We had a bad thunderstorm one year and I watched my trees get hit by lightning and fall to the ground. I was crying the whole time. There was nothing I could do to stop it, and nothing my poor mother could do to calm me down. I think we both laughed between tears at how much it affected me. Having climbed and spent time with the trees over so many years, I guess it upset me a whole lot more than anyone else in the family. The after-mess was pretty significant too. Lots of chainsawing into firewood.
I went to grab a sandwich before heading to my car appointment at the Subway restaurant on Wilfrid Laurier. I got out of my car and turned to look at the Serge Pepin IGA across the boulevard and had an Inception moment. Someone planted condos behind the grocery store. Just like that, the skyline had changed, and now huge condos sat where they shouldn't be, these massive, brown structures. Ugly. Out of place. I tried to shake it off and went in to order my sandwich. I was behind a young couple with 2 boys. I thought about what a great place this was to grow up, but started tearing up as I requested a 6 inch veggie on brown please. I looked behind me again and in walked an old couple.
Change, man. Is it ever powerful. I will have to adapt to change forever as I grow older, and I will have to let go of so many things, thoughts and thinking, because life does not remain intact. It made me sad initially, but I watched the old couple helping each other out as I munched on my supper, and admired the gap between the two families eating. Some day those boys will grow up, move out, come home, reminisce, and their parents will retire, grow old, and come back to this place in their hearts, while everything around them continues to move and build and develop. But that place in their hearts is what makes it special. That's the beauty of life right?
Gotta roll with it.
Peace
Katie
I loved this blog Katie, I completely share your sentiments about change. It is both wonderful and terrifying at the same time. I get the same feelings when I go home to Bruno and see the Quarry. Where once it was a place of mischief, it's now an overpriced condo eyesore. But, I recently went to a place that I thought had much less significance to me, and it had changed quite a bit as well, and I felt like I had never even lived there.
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