Several months before I was born, my parents realized that they needed more room for their expanding family, so they moved the family to a quieter neighborhood and larger home. My sisters have related stories of dancing in the empty spaces of the new home before the move and imagining which rooms would be theirs. Naturally, my parents got the master bedroom, but the other rooms were commandeered in order of age. That meant that the two rooms that were once the maid's quarters and separated from the main part of the house by the second stairwell, logically became the older siblings new digs. To this day, those rooms still are referred to as "so and so's old room".
The stairwell that led to those back rooms created a natural boundary between the front of the house and the back, and as you would expect, the two sides of the house have a connection through one of the bedrooms as well. Consequently, we began to refer to this part of the house as the other side. Over the years, for some reason or other, nearly all of us have made the other side of the house a resting spot for some period of time. This is what makes the other side truly a domain unto itself; it remains connected but separate. And for those of us who have actually gone to the other side and returned, it has oftentimes provided that much needed respite from life's occasional disruptions. There certainly is solace in knowing that a place like this really exists!
The best thing was when the nieces stayed on the other side a couple of summers ago, and discovered some of the treasures left there by uncles when the uncles lived in those rooms. Oh the fun time those girls had discovering things about their uncles' past lives!
ReplyDeleteI'm going off the subject,just a little. It was mentioned about "going to the other side" as a different part of the house. I wonder though if it doesn't mean leaving a memory back in the mind too. Sometimes more than not, it may be a memory that can provoke joy briefly that turns to sorrow.
ReplyDeleteRecently on my trip up north to Willard,Ohio, my children and I took a turn down the street where we lived when my husband was still alive.
As I drove past that little white ranch, my mind froze in that moment in time as if my husband's death had just happened, even though its been five years. All the memories came back of how it all was before and where I was that bright sunny day when the call came from the hospital telling me he had just died.
I could feel the tears pressing to flow out of my eyes as I held them back. What made me turn my car down that street, well, I believe it was to recapture for a moment of what we lost. The house stands empty. A few trees and flowers I planted are still there. We said goodbye to that house once again, because life still goes on. The flowers and trees still bloom there.
Hopefully, I'll wake up and see those blossoms in my heart and see that life still goes on within myself. I'm just starting to wake up and realize that those bitter-sweet memories need to go to the other side.