There are few if any places for me that can never be duplicated nor I do want to return there for fear that it will not be anything like I remember it. That is my grandmother's house, or as my sisters and all my cousins called her, Nana. The house itself resembled the McCallister residence but on a much smaller scale. A Red brick colonial with shutters, attic dormers and an arched front porch. Every part of that house had a meaning and keeps a special place in my memory.
The side porch; the main entry point of the home. You walked directly into the warm dining room that had all the classics you would expect in a house of this style. Large dining table that was only used for parties. An antique china cabinet that held the wine and whiskey glass as well as the polished utensils. The corner hutch across the room is where all the place settings were housed for the said dinner parties. A large painting of a distant relative that hung in the middle of the back wall brought the entire vibe together. But Nana's secretary desk right before you walked into the foyer was my favorite part of the entire room. She had her paper calendar set out next to her home phone with sticky notes pasted all over the place with reminders, but nothing was ever disorganized. This was her social calendar, her shopping lists, reminders of her kids and grandkids special days.
Moving into the foyer with the central staircase and the real front door and on into the living room with the grand piano and the wood burning fireplace were the focal points. The adults would sit, talk and drink their wine. My grandmother would play the piano and people would sing. Us kids were usually in the den, which was right off the living room right before you entered the galley kitchen. It was a cozy room, with a small TV and a toy chest with stacks of newspapers neatly stored in wicker baskets.
The kitchen was never a spot we gathered in, it was merely for cooking and food prep but from there you enter the breakfast room, where most all the meals were had. This is where we would have breakfast, as well as lunch on those cold snowy days where I would walk over there and enjoy a grilled cheese on rye and homemade carrot soup with Nana. Even dinners when there were 4 or less people. From that room you would have made the entire circle on the main floor back into the dining room. The layout was perfect.
Upstairs housed 4 bedrooms, each with a unique theme and their own feel. I have never been anywhere else that has this feeling. There was a string hanging from the ceiling in the upstairs foyer and that was the full set of attic stairs you could pull down. The attic could be another story all in itself. This house felt like any closet or attic nook was the gateway to Narnia.
But the Magnolia tree that stood lush and tall in the corner of the front yard is what created the secluded feeling in the middle of a neighborhood. The street was idyllic but the house itself sat only 2 doors up from a main busy street. If you took a few steps from the driveway and peered out you could see the cars speeding by and hear the honking, you could feel the peace fading. But as soon as you stepped back inside the reach of those branches all of that disappeared. You couldn't see or even hear the outside world. This tree was protecting the world I was creating at a place I felt like myself.
My sister, my cousins and myself would climb the branches of this unique tree. The canopy was thick but once you got past the leaves it was like a jungle gym inside. Still no road noise, no worries or stress. Just us making our own story. We would sit on the front porch at night looking up at the stars with Nana's moon rabbit statue. That's what she called it at least. It felt like it was just us, the tree was protecting that moment and preserving that memory. Nana had such a gift in making very simple things extremely fun and memorable. The tree would bloom and add to the spring explosion of color that was always such a treat in southwest Virginia. It was one of a kind for the neighborhood.
In the fall when all the maples and the oaks would change colors Magnolia stayed green. Then as the colorful leaves began to fall and the other trees looked bare, Magnolia was consistently strong and green. Winter would set in but Magnolia brought warmth and shelter. Outside the ground would be covered in snow but under the canopy of Magnolia the ground was clear and dry. No other tree provided security like Magnolia. It was like a beacon once you turned onto Nana's block, there it is and I know I am approaching safety.
Metaphorically the magnolia represented who Nana was. Strong, consistent, reassuring, protective but also allowed our creativity to be explored. Nana protected our family like Magnolia protected the house. Nana and Magnolia were synonymous with the house that became the epicenter for our family and even the community she cared deeply about. It was the last stop I made before moving away from my hometown forever.
One of the last conversations I had with Nana I said, "you are going to live forever". I said that because I knew she was having some compilations that came with old age but she sounded as happy and healthy as ever when I called her. But it was her response that stuck with me. She simply said, "well I don't want to do that. I think I am pretty much ready."
This wasn't a morbid statement. It was said because she had lived a long healthy meaningful life. She got to see her kids get married and have kids, and her grandkids do the same. She got to meet and hold her great grandson. What she meant was she is going out on her own terms. She didn't want to keep living just to stay alive, that isn't her. I knew exactly what she meant. She passed away peacefully a week later. I didn't cry, I still haven't. I am sad that I can't talk to her anymore and I would occasionally call her house phone just to hear her answering machine, until that was disconnected. But, It wasn't a tragic painful decline, she simply concluded she was ready. That isn't sad, that's on brand and dammit I respect her for that. I just wish I had been there with her in those final moments.
Her house has since been sold. All my family has moved away from the town. I have no reason to go back. I used to yearn to go back, but that part of me left when someone else started living there. But, I hope that family has the exact same experience I did there. I hope they make the same memories and dream the same dreams. Climb Magnolia, hide inside its branches and look up at the stars with their nana. Magnolia will protect them just as it did us.
But one day I may go back. When I do, I will walk over to Nana's like I always used to. But this time I can't go inside, I can't open the side door and take in the smell. What I will do is stand on the sidewalk in front of Magnolia, take a deep breath and finally get to say a proper goodbye to Nana.