It is a very rare occurrence when my emotions take me by surprise. I am usually fairly in tune with them. But, tonight, driving past my mother’s old house, the same house I drive by every day on my way to work and again on my way home, the emotion stored within those walls hit me like a ton of bricks. Tonight I glanced at the house, as I do every time I follow that familiar road, and I burst into tears.
I don’t know where the tidal pool of emotion came from but suddenly I was flooded with images of moments that became important memories in my life. Christmases, birthdays, family gatherings and quiet nights spent as a family were at the forefront of my brain. Lingering snapshots of magical kisses witnessed by only the walls upstairs slowly transformed themselves into moving pictures to replay the scene. That house, the building others would only see as walls and a roof, was my home. It was the vessel that helped create and store some of the most precious moments of my life.
And although there were many happy times, there were also moments of great sorrow. Those walls echoed as I told my parents, hysterically through sobs, that my best friend had passed away in 2003. That roof sheltered both my parents as they battled their illness and those walls protected them for as long as they could. That structure that is a seemingly unnoticeable building to passers-by will forever have a large part of my history carved into its frame.
That architecture will always be a part of me. Each time I drive by and take the time to trace the outlines of those walls there will always be an affinity to its design and purpose. It is said that we need to let things go to be happier but I feel the need to embrace those things to stay connected.