Wednesday, June 26, 2013


Have you ever tried to go "home again"..back to something you remembered as being a wonderful place.  Perhaps a childhood home, a city that delighted you or even a Honeymoon place that you remember as being so gorgeous and romantic? 

I always wanted to go home again, where I was raised as a child.  Finally when all the children were grown and gone, we went.  No real plan to go there exactly but while we were in Oregon, I suddenly saw a familiar sign and yelled "turn here, turn here!"  We did and I found my way back home after nearly 50 years. 
I was too late.

When we turned down my street where I learned to ride a trike AND a bike and drove down the street where all the wonderful things had happened to me as a child...the birthday parties..Halloweens with all the other neighborhood kids..sliding down the hill on our sleds in Winter, making snow angels...playing hide and seek until dark when we would hear the Mom's begin to call us in.  This was where my baby brother took his first steps and where we grieved when he died at two years old... and where I sat on the front porch and read "Alice and Jerry" book from school, and learned to print my name...all of it...
We arrived in front of my home...and
That's right.  The little house with the cellar door and with the lilac's growing over the front porch, the huge fur tree in our front yard. The white picket fence..the apple tree's, all the berry vines, all of it
was gone.
It had burned to the ground just two weeks before I arrived.  People who now lived in the neighborhood came out and spoke to me.  No one that had lived there when I was a child..was there now.
The Maple tree's that lined our street were still there and had grown huge.  The street, looked smaller..all the homes were so small and the hill was hardly a hill at all.
I walked to the ruins of our home and picked up a piece of wood with the color of paint faintly showing.  Bits and pieces I carefully chose and they are wrapped carefully in tissue now and packed away.  I run across them every now and then as they are in with my photo's. 
As I stood in front of the vacant lot..I watched men busily sawing with power saws on the old Fir tree that had once stood so tall in our front yard and was so magnificent when covered with snow.  The very one that made me plant those Redwood tree's in my front yard.  Other workmen were farther back on the lot clearing the charred ruins of my childhood home.
Someone once told me "you can never go back" and they were right.  It's never the same.  If you do I hope it turns out happier than my experience.  Oh, you can go..but it won't be the same. 

I love tiny houses...I live in a Fairy Tale world and it's because of that little home that was once in Oregon.  When I think back as I do way too often now, I understand a lot about myself and why I love certain things.  Including my love for blue and white china.  A tiny set of Blue Willow china sits in my cabinet in living room.
When I get the feeling that I want to go back to some place in my past, I stop and remember those ashes.  That blank sad lot with the tree's being cut down, no Boysenberries  or Raspberries..or nut trees..nothing.
I'll just keep trying to live in the HERE and NOW!  It's funny though.  My mind still wants to wander more and more into the past.  Sometimes it keeps me up at night remembering...always remembering..
Be kind to old folks who want to reminisce.  Please be patient with them because one day you may be doing the same thing...just like I did this evening.
Lovin' hugs,
*Did you notice that some little Fairy is going to come home and find her house is gone, replaced by a little log cabin and that everything looks different...even in a wheelbarrow garden.  :)  Time does that.


  1. our fairy garden has a transformation. The fairies will be pleased.
    I have been back and I posted on hear a year or so ago. As you found hills that we thought were steep are just small rises.
    Even though the house had burned.In your mind the trees are still green and the flowers are still blooming.
    Lovely memories.

  2. memories are such a good thing! i went back to my childhood home and the family living there said it is haunted. haha!

  3. I'm sorry for your sad encounter.

    I lived with my grandparents for three years and can still remember that house so clearly. Sometimes as a mental exercise I walk through the rooms in my imagination, picturing the furniture, the wallpaper, and even the knickknacks on the tables.

  4. Time DOES that to me too:) My childhood home is still standing but is in terrible need of some TLC! It is vacant and the land is for sale! It is a place where SO many memories were made over my lifetime! We can go back to times in our past... in our hearts:) Have a blessed day dear friend, HUGS!

  5. OH I so agree, you can't go back and find the same things. But, there are wonderful things ahead. I love your fairy gardens. Hugs, Marty

  6. I enjoyed your "going home again" story . . . although so sad to think of your arriving there to see that it had burned down.
    The words you used to describe what "once was" were so poignant . . .

    I think we each love to "go back" and remember, don't we!?

  7. What a meaningful post you bring today. It is true nothing stays the same and as we get older we like to hang on to some of those memories. There is nothing wrong with that but we also have to look forward - the best is yet to come!

  8. What a meaningful post you bring today. It is true nothing stays the same and as we get older we like to hang on to some of those memories. There is nothing wrong with that but we also have to look forward - the best is yet to come!

  9. I love going to my old hometown...sit on the green, close my eyes and mentally hear and see things that happened there 50+ years ago...ah, memories.

  10. I discovered your blog today and love it! I'll be visiting often.

  11. Mona- I can relate EXACTLY. I went back to the homestead after my brother died this winter. The farmhouse had burned down and the people that bought that part of the land had built a nice house on the old foundation.....modern and neat looking ...but not home anymore. I had a lump in my throat as I read your story. The best of home is in my memory now. xo Diana

  12. Well that is just sad. My grandparents lived next door to my parents. Their house burned down as well. It doesn't look the same either. My parents moved away but their house still stands. So many memories.

  13. I love you little fairy town and I could live in it too. And I agree - I don't think you can really go home again. I think home is where the heart is. Also I do wish the young people would accept us and listen to us more. Hugs, sandie

  14. My Mom still lives in the house I grew up in..the one my Dad built. It does seem much smaller than when I was little but the real Mom, is still there and that makes it home..but I know one day, probably not that far away, she won't be greeting me when I come home. My sister will live there and I can still come home to her...but somehow it won't be the same. I'm sorry your home was gone..but your memories are always there for you and thanks so much for sharing them with us.

  15. I live in the same town that I grew up in and occasionally drive by the house I grew up in. It's so odd to see the changes they've made. But I guess it's really the memories that you on the tightest too!

    - The Tablescaper

  16. Mona,

    Your story so touched my heart. I live only 15 min from my childhood home. I go by there every few years, and when I went recently cried like a baby. the tree in front so huge now. Wish I could turn the clock back. Sorry your home is gone, but you still have all the happy memories. :)


  17. Dear Mona, how sad to finally return home and not find the home you so well remembered. My childhood home is still here and my 90-year old mother is living there. I know the time will come when it will no longer be home. Your post makes me realize how much I should treasure it now. But nothing in the neighborhood is as I remember it so those memories are already gone.

  18. I remember the hills we slid on by the elementary school and they are still there. I remember the skating rink with the one light-bulb swinging in the middle my Dad built every winter and everyone skating and playing hockey and Mom bringing out hot chocolate and treats. I remember fishing with my brothers and bringing home large fish - now the fish are so "over-fished", they are only small. Our house is still there and I visit every now and then. There is a sweet young couple living in it and they have planted more trees, and put new siding on the house and double garage. I used to salt fish in the other side of the garage with my Dad and have shared our history with the new kids. I guess I am one of the lucky ones - going home for me was "different" but in a nice way. There are many memories we carry in our hearts and minds dear Mona and we are most fortunate to be able to revisit some of them. I loved this post. Made me feel warm and fuzzy in my heart. I have been away for some of this past week helping some folks settle into their summer place. Take care :) n Howdy to Howard.

  19. Another incredibly poignant post, Mona! You have a tremendous gift, being able to cut through all the 'fluff' and present your deepest, most sincere thoughts, feelings and emotions in such a pure and honest way. I know you are not trying to 'write' in the way you would as a 'writer', but you truly are a natural, and these powerfully vivid snippets you share with us are vital bits of who you are. It is an honour to be entrusted with your truth in words and to be allowed these beautiful glimpses of your soul. What a lovely woman you are!!!
    Huge hugs, Des xxx

  20. Your fairy garden is looking magnificent!!!


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