The home I grew up in was rented by my mom from neighbors, who also happen to be distant relatives.
Recently, the house was vacant (while between renters), and Motor Man and I were invited to have a look at the changes that have been made since my family lived there.
And there have been many renovations: doors widened, as well as a full bath, closets and a foyer added. The kitchen now has built-in cabinets and a work island. As I walked through the house, each room brought back memories.
But, of all the changes made, one thing remains. A small thing, really. Insignificant, most likely, to anyone but me.
The step “down” into the kitchen:
It’s difficult to see in this picture, but there is a step where the hardwood floor meets the tile. The kitchen had been added on to the house years after it was built.
During our time living there, that step proved challenging for the toddlers in the family. And, somewhat similarly, it was also difficult for my mom to negotiate in her later years. I smiled to see that it’s still there.
On the exterior, that front porch, where many memories were also made, looks basically the same as it did.
It’s just missing a swing.
Mom and me by the front porch
And Mom.
~These Days Of Mine~
these days of mine 