Life as an Extreme Sport

House of Memories

Wow. I just had a very weird thought, disturbing and somewhat painful. One of, as silly as it sounds, bringing someone else home to meet my parents. I just had this flash, this image, of my father shaking another mans hand, of my mom smiling and trying to look friendly. Of Timothy being suspicious, and Tracy being cold.

Of you bent over the hood of your truck with my father, examining the engine. Of you dancing in the kitchen with my mother to Savage Garden. Of you talking cars and stereos with my brother, and helping Tracy with her homework.

I just realized that I’ve not been to my parents home completely without you in over three years. Nearly four. I never really lived there without you – three, four weeks isn’t enough time to build memories of belonging. I had eight months to build memories of belonging there *with* you. And then the multiple holidays, events, and just because weekends.

That house is full of memories of you. I think it will be a while before I can go there without that thought. It will be longer before I can bring anyone else.