Originally uploaded by chesterley.
My apologies for the multiple edits on this post to those of you using blog aggregators. I've had trouble with posting pictures from Flickr this week...
My mind has been wandering a lot this week. Mourning the loss of my 98-year-old grandmother I expected to die is odd: On the one hand, I'm happy for the prospect that she's moved onto a better place without the aches and pains of a century-old body. On the other hand I do miss her, stubbornness and all.
One strange thing is that the mourning process for my grandmother also brings me to miss, of all things, her house. It's an International Style ranch house in the woods that has always sparked my interest in architecture. I really love it up there, and we would spend time there in the summer when I was a kid. Whenever I'd speak to my grandmother on the phone, she'd provide all the updates like, "the weather is doing this," or, "the deer came to visit the bird bath today," or even, "the storm blew over 5 trees, but thankfully none hit the house." I miss those updates on one of my favorite places in the world. I sit here in the Midwest wondering what's happening up at the house right now. I find it sad that the house is empty. I can hear the wind blowing through the trees, the chirping birds, an occasional car out at the road, and even a distant heavy wave hitting the beach down the road. It's odd that my grandmother isn't there to see and hear it all, and to report on the goings-on.
Funny how years of connection with an individual is leaving me attached to the place where that individual lived. Not sure yet what that means, but I'm finding it rather odd.