I keep dreaming of my mom and the old house.
Before my parents built the house they live in now, on the land was an unholy merging of a small house and a trailer. It was not bad, per se, just weird as all hell. I had my own room, my brother did too, my sisters shared what was a third den. But after Ivan, they saved up and had that monstrosity torn down and their current house built. But I keep dreaming that we all, meaning my family and all the siblings, my wifes family lived there. My mom was just happy to have everyone within ears reach. It is kind of disheartening, as my mom hated the old house, as the walk to the kitchen was like a two minute walk, and it leaked where the house and trailer joined. Once I moved on, she finally had a work room, to do her arts and crafts. and that damned Jerusalem thorn plant, thick branches with rose bush thorns, made sneaking out of the window a painful experience.
This morning my youngest sister called me, she was finished cleaning out my moms work room storage in the old shop behind the house and found a brick and asked me why did she keep a brick. I told her that was a brick from the old house. She cried, as she was a kid when the old house was torn down, with my mom and younger siblings were crashing at my grandmothers house while the new house was put up, with my dad and brother renting a trailer near my dad and brothers work.
So I am sitting here at work, trying to puzzle it all out when my other sister texted me, needing the keys to my moms storage unit. I was still paying on it, because once it is cleaned out, I was going to do some major spring cleaning. I have not been in it since I helped my mom fill it. I do not recall what is in it, so I called my wife to run Eliza the keys, that are hanging on the key hook. An hour ago, my wife sent me photo's of the contents.
Inside was my first car's steering wheel, the only thing to survive the accident, all of everything me and my siblings did in school, including my long lost prom pics, with my wife who was working on her baby bump, my ROTC pics, and my diploma, which I had to apply to get a new one since I thought I lost it. My mom kept everything we did, like a beautiful collection of our childhoods. I told them to get what they wanted out of it and lock it up.
I think my dreams are a road map to my mom. Not in a physical sense. But a way to fully understand her.