After sitting on the market for over seven years, my father finally sold and closed on my grandmother’s house today. My grandfather practically built it. My dad grew up in it. My grandmother passed away in the fall of 2004 and I moved into the house for two years afterwards. I grew very attached to this place; yet, I’m glad my father finally has it off his shoulders.
Things I will miss about this place:
– the ‘bomb shelter’
– the creepy attic
– being in Chicago without being IN Chicago
– the way it smells like ‘old’ (there is no other way to describe it)
– handmade furniture
– the cute, small kitchen
– the ghosts (I swear)
– the large basement, perfect for parties
– hanging clothes on the indoor clothesline
– the cemetery across the street
– the friendly neighbors
– my grandmother
– just… everything.
Four years ago, after a walk through the neighborhood, I wrote this:
“I’m not a fan of the suburbs (or suburban-type residences)
but every time I take a walk through this area,
I smile and feel at ease.
The neighborhood kids are always playing
in the park, in the yards…
a lot of the boys play football daily.
The adults are out walking dogs and babies,
working in the yards and on their cars.
Many of them leave the front door open.
When I moved in last year,
neighbors stopped by to say hello and offer assistance.
Each house is gorgeous and unique
(one, two, three-story; brick, wood, modern, old),
which I value above identical suburbs.
The downtown area is small but nice
and almost all the shops/restaurants are not chains.
The neighboring town also has a historical downtown
with more exclusive places to dine and shop.
I hope that if I live in a suburban area in the future,
it’s like this one.”
This house is cherished.