home

In a few days, our family is hopping the pond to the for a family reunion. I was born there – we moved to the U.S. in 1981, when I was seven. We’ll be gone for 9 days, staying in a cottage resort not far from my grandmother’s house, about 40 minutes outside of Amsterdam. I am already a bit emotional about this trip. It is a bit of a pilgrimage, as my grandmother is in her late 80’s, and has declared that she’s to spend the rest of her life on her side of the pond. It’s extremely expensive for us to go there, and I’m not at all sure I’ll ever see her again after this. We’ve been planning this trip since the boys were born.

On the night of the summer solstice, we’ll all be celebrating together in her house—all the cousins, aunts, uncles, and spouses. The boys and one cousin’s baby girl will represent the fourth generation. In the fall, my grandmother will probably move into a retirement home in town. She will undoubtedly mourn the loss more than I, having spent 50 years there, but I also cannot imagine not having that house and garden to come back to. With the exception of one family friend, it is the only home that’s been there my whole life. My earliest memories are of going carefully down the winding staircase, of feeding her hens, and of looking out the screen-less windows from the little upstairs room I often stayed in over the gravel drive. My grandmother’s house is a classic Dutch house, with timber framing, red and white checkerboard shutters, and a thatched roof. I can easily understand why my grandmother is so attached to it, with its friendly, open kitchen, large windows, and sprawling garden. She insisted on staying after my grandfather’s death in the mid-eighties, but no-one thought she’s still be there today.

Things are kept simpler there than they used to be, but once, there was a sprawling vegetable garden neatly encased in a rabbit-proof fence. There were egg-laying hens (her flock is now reduced to a few aging pet bantams that don’t lay anymore), elaborate gardens containing many hiding places, and in the small woods, even a little wooden playhouse. There is a pond that I skated on, with double-ridge skates, leaning on a child’s chair at age two. Every time I’ve been back as an adult, I realize how seeing a place again helps to preserve our early memories of it. I barely remember our other houses, but I have so many early memories of this one. I loved it then, and now I can see better how she did too. She doesn’t have a yard, she has grounds. My own gardens are tiny compared to hers, but somehow I spend my summer evening time very similarly to the way she always has. I make rounds around the house, examining all the beds, weeding a patch here and there, making mental notes, harvesting vegetables, checking on hens or calling them home to roost be scattering a bit of scratch. When I was little, I tagged along to those very activities whenever I visited my grandmother, which was often.

I know that my grandmother is burdened by her house now, that she doesn’t feel safe there anymore, rattling around all by herself. She had a fall recently, and she’s increasingly forgetful and confused about things like the day of the week. I am grateful that she’s leaving at her own initiation, and that we all have a chance to mark those 50 years with her, that even my boy will have a chance to run around under the trees and through all the little paths. I’m grateful that my decidedly non-religious family—my grandma and I being the sole exceptions —we seem to have found some way to ritualize this very rare reunion, as well as the passing of an era. My grandmother is the family matriarch, and I, her eldest grandchild, live furthest of away from her. Nonetheless, I feel that our connection is both timeless and eternal, beyond a place to come back to.

Comments

[Amber]

have a safe and wonderful trip. Your grandma's house and grounds sound delightful.

[Sandy]

Your grandma's home sounds so pretty. I hope you're able to take some pictures to share when you return. Have a safe and happy trip!

[Gwen]

What a beautiful post. My grandparents left the house they lived in for most of my life a few years ago, and I will miss it for the rest of my life. And my grandfather, too, who died shortly after, without ever meeting my baby girls. I hope for a great trip for all of you, it's so wonderful that you'll get to introduce your kids to the place (and people) that you love so much.

[Fern]

Absolutely beautiful post. I wish I were going too.