It is a wonderful house. Big yard, huge basement, fantastic screened in porch. The upstairs that was strictly the girls' zone - where my parents rarely appeared, thank God.
The house is a part of nearly every memory from my childhood and so many of our family pictures.
It boasted fabulous 70's decor for the bulk of my childhood.
I mean, can you even stand it? Dad! All those girls! That couch! The orange shag rug!
I guess my childhood really was a long time ago...
I win the prize for the most bizarre and unflattering outfit in this one. I mean.....
in the epic yard with our epic dog, Yobo.
This photo, in addition to showcasing Dad's impressive 1970's sideburns, illustrates why our childhoods are so well documented.
The Littles in the den
the littles in the living room, rockin the outfits.
the gang in the living room
I went to Connecticut a couple weeks ago to visit my mom and spend time with a few of my sisters and took a deep dive down memory lane. Living far from home, I don't get to do that much and, with three sisters in the house, we dove into old photo albums. I even got the old reel-to-reel projector up and running and we watched home movies from the 70's. Classic and wonderful.
We also had the unbelievable opportunity to walk through the doors of 26 Bettswood Rd again, as the current owners are moving and the house is for sale. What a trip.
It was sometimes very disorienting - I'd turn a corner and the living room felt so familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time.
But it looked great.
The current owners have made some wonderful improvements and the house is beautiful.
The laundry room is now an eat-in sunroom and the kitchen, even sans the yellow mushroom wallpaper, looks fantastic.
The den still has the liquor closet dad made.
The porch is still epic.
When we peeked into the storage area upstairs, we hit the jackpot. Finally, evidence we actually had lived there!
that, and the boot bin dad made in the basement, which was otherwise stripped back to its original, unfinished state.
Nostalgia and joy permeated the trip. That, and the incredible, delicious, foundational experience of a Lebanese feast. Mom had lobbied, initially, for a simpler meal, it being summer, etc. But the Corey sisters prevailed and it was a group effort and we killed it.
Julie was in charge of the kousa.
She used the squash scraper tool that, I learned, my dad had specially made for the job.
Mom made her usual, amazing, killer kibbee. No-one makes kibbee like my mom.
Julie and I chopped and cleaned and stuffed and seasoned for hours, in our pj's.
MaryBeth made the filling for the wadda - (stuffed grape leaves to those not in the know.)
We missed Jacquie and Ann terribly.
But we had ourselves a feast, yes we did.
I'm feeling the nostalgia, friends.
Perhaps it's this big birthday that looms on Monday.
Or perhaps it's just gratitude that I got to slip through the portal that leads to my childhood for a weekend. The shag rugs are gone, but the great vibe of laughter and love and opera and dodge ball and Ravioli-Simmons and Halloween and family reunions and the Cronins and ping pong and dad's workshop and dinners around the oval and all-those-girls will greet the next lucky buyers. I wish them the happiest of memories there- I know I have mine.