I woke up this morning in another strange bed. Since last week I have slept in 5 different places. I use the word “slept” loosely as I have not been sleeping very well lately. One reason being that my nerves have been all over the place and two being that after 11 years of marriage, sleeping without my hubby next to me is taking some getting use to. By the time he joins me in Newfoundland I will have to get use to sleeping with him all over again. But last night I had the opportunity to be the first person to sleep in my cousins guest room of their new home. And what a home it is. I fell in love with the place as soon as I walked in and saw the island in the middle of their gourmet kitchen.
Their house sits on the land where my grandparents once lived. It was home to their family of five boys and five girls. When their mom and dad passed on, many heavy hearts hung in the balance. Along with their grief came some resentment that their childhood home would have to be torn down in order to rebuild the structure that stands there today. It is understandable to feel loss when someone moves on to the other side but holding on to grief can do funny things to a person. I will admit that seeing my Nan and Pops house disappear felt like a punch in the gut but with time I grew to accept that a house, whether it is there or not, will not bring them back. Nor will it erase the memories that are tucked away for safe keeping.
Walking into my cousins home for the first time did not hurt me in any way. In fact, I felt like I could breath a special kind of air again. I imagined my Nan sitting by the front window twisting her hair as she watched to see her youngest son pull up in the driveway. I could see my Pop scrubbing the grease off his hands in the wash basin that was situated just outside their living room. In a rare moment of silence between gabbing with my cousins I could almost hear the click, click, click of the damper from the Woodchief that once heated their old bones. All of those memories came flooding back and I felt blessed to be in a home filled with so much love.
There were little things scattered throughout their new living space that added to my trip down memory lane. One being the staircase banister that Pop built which now rests its ageless head under the corner of the island where we both laughed and cried together. But my favourite moment of the visit came when I walked up the stairs to go to bed for the night. The room where I had the pleasure of resting my very tired head felt very familiar all of sudden. It reminded me of the nights I spent at my grandparents house with my Aunt B. The cross breeze from the two windows that were wide open felt like a hug from the beyond. I closed my eyes and slept better than I had in over a week. I knew in that moment that it did not matter that there were new walls standing in place of the old because love was alive and well in the Rowsell garden. To deny the magic of the power of spirit will only hurt the person who refuses to embrace it. When you open yourself up to accept change, the past will reinvent itself and allow new memories to fill your soul.
Namaste to my cousins for allowing me revisit the old while enjoying the beauty of something new and wonderful.
See you next Tuesday.