Growing up, there was no place I loved quite like my grandparents' house in Morton, Illinois (the "Pumpkin Capital of the World" in case you didn't know). Many of my best memories of childhood involve my grandparents and their house, a modest red brick one story with a detached garage, a big screened in porch on the front, and - the best part - a huge finished basement. I spent so many hours in that basement...it was an apartment, a restaurant, a detective agency (think Charlie's Angels)...it was my own little world. Upstairs, the carpet was green and brown, the fireplace was big enough to cook in (and they did, the best steaks ever), there was a "candy drawer" (always full) in the kitchen, there were strings of glass beads hanging in the windows next to the front door... I'll never forget the incredible tree in the front yard...it had a low branch perfect for climbing and in the fall the leaves were every shade of gold, orange, and red.
I was my grandparents' only grandchild at that time...I was their "Ray Ray Lizzie." My Grandma JoAnn spoiled me...she would heat my towels in the dryer so they'd be warm when I got out of the bath, she let me sleep in her bed and would rub my back as long as I wanted, she took me to the bakery for fresh donuts in the mornings. I adored my Grandpa Manny...he was German, red haired, a fisherman...always smiling and joking. My grandparents are the reason I love fried catfish and playing cards.
It was the home of my childhood. It is the home of my memories. It will always be the home of my heart.
(That's me...behind the leaves)
2 comments:
The added pic makes the story PERFECT! Love you.
I'm so glad you did this, it's perfect.
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