House Memories

I remember the year my grandparents came and stayed for Christmas. We had a big three that year, fully decorated. We still had the pull out sofa bed in the living room and my grandparents were asleep on it when we got back from midnight mass. We headed to bed ourselves when there was a crash in the living room. We all ran out to see that the tree had toppled over, right onto grandma! She was ok and the tree was ok, but that a sight to see! She had ornament balls in her hair. That was a fun Christmas.

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I remember how my brother and I would always make “potions” in the sink of our bathroom. We would take different things we found in the bathroom, like shampoo, and say they were different agents we needed and mix them into our concoction. Then we would fill an empty bottle and try to sell our mixes to our parents. They never bought any.

One time we were mixing something up and we locked the door, not wanting anyone to see our secret recipe. Our dad knocked on the door asking us to open it, but we refused. Dad became angry and continued to knock on the door very loudly, yelling at us to open it. I can’t imagine what we were thinking other than that we needed to keep the potion safe.

We continued to refuse to open the door. We have never really seen our dad mad, as it takes a lot to get him there, but all of a sudden he punched a hole through the door! I’m pretty sure that make us more scared of our dad then of him seeing our secret recipe.

We opened the door. I don’t recall what happened after that but I know we weren’t in trouble and that the door was eventually replaced. I have never seen my dad that mad again, I can only assume he must have been scared we would hurt ourselves or each other in a locked bathroom after a while.

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I remember when I was really young that my brother fell off a rocking chair. I don’t remember seeing it happen, but I know I saw it. I ran outside and told my mom Peter was hurt. I think that’s all I could really articulate to her. She dropped her gardening tool and ran inside. The next thing I remember is her holding a white towel to my brother’s head and seeing the blood soaking through.

I know I wasn’t really scared, I don’t think I understood what was happening. The next thing I knew we were rushing to the car and clamoring inside. I couldn’t sit next to mom, she had to take care of Peter, and dad had to drive.

Peter was rushed away as soon as we got to the ER. My dad and I had to sit in the waiting room and I could hear my brother screaming for my mom. I couldn’t see him until he had his stitches in place. He asked the doctor for a popsicle for me too.

Since then I’m a bit of an over protective older sister.

We still have the rocking chair in the living room that he fell off of.