The House that Built Me

I grew up in San Antonio, Texas. The only house I really remember is the one we moved to before I entered first grade, and it is the one this past week that I helped pack up after more than 25 years of calling it "HOME".

While I thought it would be difficult, it was more joyful than tearful. I had time to reflect on so many wonderful memories, and be thankful for what the past had taught me.


This is it. The house that built me. There was a rock in the landscaping to the left that my Mom would sit my brother and I on every year for an annual photo. It is now covered with ivy...a little secret for the new owner. You could see the fireworks from Sea World from this spot, and the slanted driveway made a great ramp for my brother and his friends to practice his skateboard tricks. This picture only shows a few of the oak trees which surround the house, and in high school, our friends learned they held toilet paper well.



Above is the dining room. On holidays, it was a place to gather and catch up with family. Or, one weekend every other month, it alternated Poker and Bunco players.


At the center of the house sat the wet bar. In the summer months when I was home from school, one of my weekly chores was to clean the glass. In hind sight, perhaps it was a mistake to put me this close to the bar. It is where I took my first shot of Crown, fell in love with Whiskey, and gathered with friends when I came home from college and California.


My parent's master bedroom. Three of the four walls in their dressing area were covered with mirrors. It is here where I used to practice my toe touches for dance team, got ready for school dances, and tip toed through when I returned home at curfew.


My bedroom. If these walls could talk, they would have some good stories to tell. I must have spent hours in this room this weekend going through old boxes from the last twenty five years. Boxes full of pictures and old letters from dear friends, high school mums and spirit gifts (I had to give Joe the 101 on Texas High School football traditions), report cards, old cassette tapes, James Dean posters (it was a bit of an obsession), and so many other items I had long forgotten.

The Living Room. This is where my friends and I gathered for sleep overs, I practiced dance routines, played pretend games, built forts, played football with my brother, sat with my Dad in front of the fire, and enjoyed so many wonderful Christmas mornings.

There are many cherished memories of this house and this city for which I am so grateful.

For now, we're out ya'll!