As I walked away from the house, a tear came to my eye. The day, dark and gloomy with a constant rain, represented the true feelings each one of us had, but we covered it up with smiles. As I closed my car door I knew that was it, it would never be the same.
***
Every Thanksgiving, my family would come together at my grandparent’s mountain house in north Georgia just outside of Helen. We went there mainly so my grandparents would not have to travel. It also is the most central location between all of my family. We are all spread out to where some live in North Carolina, and the rest all over parts of Georgia.
Every Thanksgiving was the same routine. We would pack the night before, go to school, be picked up by Mom and/or Dad a little early and head straight up to the mountains. As that time neared for my parents to check me out of Elementary school, the excitement always grew.
The drive up there seemed like it would take days because of all the anticipation and excitement to see everyone. Once we got onto the highway, it was just trees and cars. There really was not anything to look at. To help pass time, my brother and sisters and I would interact with each other. We often played the classic license plate game, trying to see who could find the alphabet in order first. My younger sister would always “win” partly because she had not quite learned the alphabet.
Another fun past time on the trip was to fight with each other. This game would often get mom and dad involved too. One time, we got into a fight over cup holders. As we drove through a fast food restaurant, my parents started to pass back the drinks. The problem was that the 1990 Toyota Previa we had did not have but maybe 2 cup holders, which were both located in the front. To help compensate, my parents bought several cup holders to hang from the window. We could not find all of the holders so we battled with each other over who would get a cup holder.
If not fighting with each other, my brother and sisters would sleep while I sat and listen to my Sony Walkman. I only had one tape at the time, the Free Willy soundtrack. While listening to the music, I sat there looking out the window at the same repetitive stuff, trees, grass, mountains, nothing exciting. All I could think about was how much fun it would be to go and play tag or capture the flag in some of the fields we passed. This also led to thoughts about what types of stuff us kids would do when we finally could get out of the car. When would we get there?
As the drive continued, we became more and more antsy. Because of this, about an hour into the drive every other thing we said was:
“Are we there yet?”
“Are we there yet?”
“How much longer?”
“Are we there yet?”
When we finally arrived, I always rushed in to greet everyone unappreciative to the true value of those hugs. I was more focused on playing with my cousins. The house offered lots of games and activities for us to entertain ourselves with. The adults often sat around and talked…boring; my cousins, brother, sisters and I would gather down the wooded steps on the lower level where the temperature was always 5-10 degrees cooler than upstairs, and play. We would build forts, play board games, attempt to play pool, hide and seek, and almost any other type of game you can imagine. We really only stopped playing when lunch or dinner was ready. When we would finally come upstairs, the adult’s where still doing the exact same thing, only in a different location. How could people talk that much to each other? At that age, just sitting and talking seemed boring to me. It seemed like they enjoyed being bored.
As I started to get older, the house started to mature with me. Extensions to the house were built to help our growing family. The walls started to become covered with stories. The rugs became more worn in giving the house a true home feeling.
***
Thanksgiving came back around. This time much older, I had to make the travel solo. My brother and sisters were coming from different areas and all were on different schedules. We each had our own lives to live; our once fun filled car rides have now become solo adventures.
Driving solo was good because I could lose myself in my own music as loud as I wanted. I could have some alone time to do, say, think, and listen to whatever I wanted. The music helped thoughts about friends, lovers, jobs, and any other issues cross my mind in positive ways. The thoughts came in and out in non-stressful ways because I knew for one, I could control the music and change the song to more upbeat tunes for more positive thoughts, and two, as soon as I got to the mountain house, all of these thoughts would be gone.
Coming to the end of the highway, the noise and clutter quiets down to the peaceful openness of the mountains. The trees, which are in transition from one state to the next, suddenly have more meaning. They become real and relatable.
Arriving at the house, a much stronger feeling of comfort and warmth circulates through my body. This time the hugs have more meaning behind them. It becomes a type of hug that is for the moment and also for the ages. It gave me a sense of love and comfort, things that a teenager often seeks out. But at the same time, it almost comes routine. I can almost predict where everyone is sitting in the room before I open the door. I can also predict who is going to give me a hug first.
***
Two months before Thanksgiving, I am headed on my way up to the mountain house. Even though the mountain house has become a place that I always look forward to visiting, I did not look forward to going this time. Sure the family was going to be there but not the same type of circumstances as usual. Nowadays, the only time my family can come together is for the holidays. But this was the middle of September and Labor Day, the only holiday near, had already passed.
The drive up there was a much different drive. It was very short, yet long. It allowed for plenty of time to really think about past traditions and memories. There was no upbeat music this time but rather a nice slow melody to make the memories smoothly transition in my mind. The drive was filled with clouds and rain, making the trip even more miserable. The air was damp and cold with not the slightest sight of a sun ray. The grass was wet and the dirt turned into mud.
Not only was the drive different, but the house seemed to have a different vibe as well. The clouds blocked out the beautiful scenery that usually surrounds the house. The trees looked depressed. Drenched in rain, they looked as if they had been crying as well.
Entering the house was a feeling I had never really experienced before. It was a feeling mixed between sorrow, comfort and an overall feeling of something unreal. Instead of a happy welcoming, it was a more embracing welcome. The usual predicted first hug, the hug filled with the most love, was not given. Because of that, nothing felt real. The house was still full of love but by one less lover; my grandmother had passed away.
The stay was short and sweet. The world kept on spinning and we had to get back into it. As I walked away from the house, a tear came to my eye. The day, dark and gloomy with constant rain, represented the true feelings each one of us had, but we covered it up with smiles. As I closed my car door I knew that was it. The reality still has not sunk in and probably will not until Thanksgiving. The memories and experiences in the house and the love that once and still is there, has made the mountain house one special place.