New Beginnings in Old Familiar Spaces

Glenn and Elizabeth Kelley bought a house in Lubbock, Texas in the 1970s.  They probably never imagined that in May of 2016, their great-granddaughter, her husband, and their one year old great-great-grandson, would be making improvements and moving in.

I have fond memories of the house as a little girl, visiting "Grandmother" and "Grandaddy." I married my teddy bear in a lovely ceremony attended by three wooden giraffes, a brass elephant, and a real stuffed baby alligator.

I remember being encouraged to play quietly with Max (the energetic toy poodle) while Grandmother watched the Price is Right and kept a running total of her would-be winnings on a scratch pad by her chair. I remember her being so proud of her roses when they were doing well and taking me out in the yard to see them. I remember chasing tiny frogs on the front walk after it rained for several days. I remember Max watching out the big front windows when we said our good-byes.

I remember the sad things, too. When Grandmother fell outside on some ice and was in the hospital, she returned home with a walker. I remember they day we went to see her and her eyes were yellow from the pancreatic cancer. I remember meeting in the house after she died to share our fondest memories of her with the minister. I remember my Grandaddy living there all alone and feeling sad for him.

Though a house is only building that provides shelter and privacy, over time, a house can become a home. It plays host to many life events and becomes more in the hearts and minds of those who've spent time within its walls. I don't claim to know or understand the emotions others hold for the building we are preparing to move into. I don't know what it will come to mean for us. However, I am happy that we will get the opportunity to spend time there and add to both the visible and invisible history of the little yellow house on Thirty-Something street.