For the first 17 years of my life, my home was at 5822 Port Hudson Drive. A four bedroom, two and a half bath brick ranch built in 1975. We moved out when I was in away for my junior year at
Louisiana School, and I guess I never felt like I truly got to say goodbye. Or maybe at 17, I didn’t know I should. In any case, I’ve dreamt about it, and I’ve driven by it countless times. So when my mom told me it was for sale, I knew I had to see it. This past Sunday, there was an open house, and I brought the boys.
I expected it to make me really emotional. I have so many memories of that house. And of course of my dad. As it turns out, the whole experience was surprisingly unemotional. It was interesting, but I never felt like I was going to burst into tears or anything.
(Don’t worry, there’s more…a LOT more.)
Walking up the driveway to the back.
Look, that’s where we learned to ride bikes and rollerskate. And where we’d draw hopscotch or our mansion floorplans in chalk. I wonder if there’s still a dip at the end where rainwater collects?
The carport. Where I jumped out as we were pulling in so I could reach the swingset first. Where we held a “fair” and one family showed up, took a look at our “games” and turned around and walked off. Where we practiced “ice skating” because it was smooth. The door to the right was my dad’s garage. No car ever fit in there, because that was his workshop. Full of wood and tools and golf clubs and cigarette butts.
Our next-door neighbor’s house, whose carport mirrored ours. My sister and I got our babysitting chops in this house, for a few families that lived there. They had a pool, and many, many summer days were spent in it.
The deck my dad built 30 years ago. I can’t believe it’s still standing. God rest his soul, but he was a more enthusiastic than detail-oriented woodworker.
The laundry room, with the bathroom in the corner that was too close to the dryer to open the door more than a foot or two. Major design flaw. Look, the same sink and faucet are still in there.
There was a built-in desk and cabinets here.
New countertops, new backsplash…
…but the same oven we had in 1992.
Pretty sure my dad put up that beadboard and put that door in the lower cabinet. The one above it was for medicine.
Look! Photoshoot with Jenny in that very spot! We had those shutters on all the windows. I liked them.
See that lock on the pantry door? That was more than likely because of me.
Because I’d do stuff like this. And then you might find me in front of the pantry, glassy-eyed with a pile of King Dons foil wrappers at my feet and chocolate smeared around my mouth. Maybe.
Through to the dining room
There was a big mirror on that wall over there.
My dad’s desk was here, and there the family computer sat. I spent hours there on Prodigy, mostly on the INXS fan club pages.
And there’s the foyer, where Jenny and I would put on plays and beauty pageants that always suspiciously ended in a tie. Hmmph.
To the left of that fireplace was the old wet bar. Man, that was cool. The mantle is the same, and so many photos were taken on the hearth.
They replaced the old multi-paned French doors with these boring but I’m sure highly efficient numbers.
The air conditioning grate that fell on my foot and caused my big toenail to fall off. Blech.
Our bathroom. We used to have two sinks and one big mirror, but those cabinets are exactly the same.
Also unchanged, the faucets in here.
Now to the bedrooms!
Aunt Jenny’s room. The boys are cautious to enter it, as they should be!
Onto my old bedroom!
I can’t believe they covered over the purple “INXS” I’d painted up there on the ceiling. Meanies.
They clearly didn’t understand my style of decorating.
Aw, my closet. I had my desk in there, and I’d sit and eat powdered sugar with a spoon. Explains a lot, actually.
Uncle Evan’s room. Always the cleanest room in the house. Seriously.
Look! There’s where he made a hole in the wall in a fit of rage or something!
The closet, where all of the magic happened. (I mean, where he played on his computer all the time.)
My parent’s room
In the corner just to the left of the doorway, my dad kept his guns. I mean, they were unloaded and all. I’m sure.
Now let’s go outside!
The little patio right outside the back door, where a roach crawled up the leg of my corduroy pants. I still vividly remember that. It was probably 30 years ago. ::shudder::
My hamsters were buried out there somewhere.
A good spot for hide and seek.
Well, I hope you enjoyed that walk down memory lane. (As if anyone but my own family made it this far.)