There are so many things that I remember about Grandma's house. I figured that the best way to do this is to start from the beginning, with my very earliest memory, and move forward in time from there. Here goes:
The earliest memory I have of Grandma's house comes from when I was an infant. I know it was back then because I remember being pretty high up, but I don't remember enough for it to have been when I was tall enough to be that high up. I remember being carried in the front door by either my mom or dad (I'm not sure exactly which), and seeing that carpet for what might've been the first time, for all I know. That carpet, man. Grandma's green carpet. I promise, that even though this is my earliest memory, It's going to be one that I will remember for the rest of my life, because of Grandma's famous green carpet.
As I was writing this, I remembered something else from when I was a baby. This would've been between the previous memory, and when I learned to walk. I have a distinct memory of myself rolling around on the floor of Grandma's living room (Yes, on the green carpet), and having the time of my life. I loved to roll. Don't get me wrong, rolling is still pretty great, but I think it's a little more acceptable for a baby to roll around everywhere than it is for a freshman in college.
Moving forward in time, to my toddler years and beyond, the number of memories begins to explode. I remember lot's of things from that age. I remember coloring in one of Grandma's many coloring books on the dining room table. I remember playing with lots of different toys, like the toy school bus, or the big lego blocks, or the little yellow house that had all of the little animal toys in it. All of which were kept in the closet under the stairs. I remember helping Grandma pick vegetables from her garden that she had in the back yard. I remember the many games of hide-and-seek that I would play with my cousins at various family get-togethers, and then being chastised for running around upstairs. I remember the playhouse in the back yard. I always loved being in that little house, back when I could fit inside. Then I started to get too big; big enough that if I tried to get in, I would cut myself on the nails that stuck through the roof on the inside. I remember sliding down the wooden beams on either side of the staircase, and regretting that decision because of the splinters that I got as a result.
I have two very key, specific memories from this time in my life. The first specific memory is of Anita, the ghost that supposedly lived in Grandma's attic. I remember the one time that I ever actually met Anita. I remember standing at the bottom of the stairs as the sound of ghostly wailing erupted through the house. I was locked in place as a ghostly white figure appeared at the top of the staircase, still wailing. My eyes went wide, and fear gripped my heart. I didn't know what to do, and that's when the memory cuts out. Remembering it now, I know that "Anita" was just somebody standing at the top of the stairs wrapped up in a big white sheet, but to a kid of my age at the time, that's exactly what ghosts looked like. Walking sheets.
The other key memory I have from this time in my life, is of the time that I had Grandma's home made Enchiladas for the first time. I was young, but I was used to our family's appreciation for Mexican cuisine by this time. That being said, NOTHING could have prepared me for what I was about to bite into. I took a bite of Enchilada, and it felt like a volcano had erupted inside of my mouth. I remember it being so spicy, that I lost my voice later that night. Because of this singular incident, I avoided enchiladas for the next fifteen years or so, only starting to eat them again this year (2013).
I think it's about time to move on to the next stage of my life, which would've started at about age 10 or so. This was a time of adventure for me. However, the memories begin to thin out here. From this time I remember climbing the big tree in Grandma's backyard for the first time, and getting to the top for the first time. This time holds my earliest memories of my two favorite meals that Grandma can cook, which are Biscuits and Gravy, and Tostadas. I also remember getting a savings bond every Christmas for a while there. I remember bringing my trombone over for what was the first and I think was also the last time, and playing for Papa Pete. This was the time of my life that I first began to dabble around in music, and that included the piano. I remember spending countless hours messing around on the piano upstairs. This is just about the extent of my memories from this time.
We've arrived at the recent past (about 15 years old onward), and of this time there's not much to say, as this is a very busy time of my life. I remember driving to Grandma's house for the first time, and being very nervous all the while. Other than that, most of my memories come from family get-togethers that took pace at Grandma's house. I remember conversing for a while with Uncle Bud at one of these, which I guess would've been almost a year ago. Funny, how time flies.
Finally, I remember my horror at the knowledge that Grandma's house had been hit during the tornado epidemic earlier this year. I remember the tale I was told of her heroic rescue by my cousin Dalton (was it Dalton? or Kyle? or somebody else entirely? that, I don't remember), just before the storm passed through. I then remember my doubled horror as I learned that the house had been hit again some time later, by yet another tornado. All was alright though, as Grandma had moved out after the first storm.
That brings us up to speed. That is most of what I remember. I think that when you string together all of my memories of Grandma's old house on Bouziden Street, you can sum them up with the 3 G's...
Ghosts, Good food, and Green Carpet.
Oh, and one more thing...
Family.
By Ethan Martinez
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