- I remember my grandparents house facing my great-grandmother's one, and my great aunt close by.
- I loved being so close to everyone, and exploring the property.
As soon as my 39th birthday came and went, I started planning my 40th. Celebrating birthdays in a big way is a longstanding family tradition, so what would it be for this one? Maybe a retro roller-skating pizza party or an age-appropriate dinner with friends — and also pizza. But much to my pizza-eating chagrin, every grand scheme I came up with felt wrong.
I kept returning to a simpler idea: Spending this milestone at my grandparents' house.
As a kid, I spent most Sundays and all holidays at my grandparents' place, but I'd never spent a birthday there. Still, the idea stuck, and it slowly started to make sense.
They had their little village in a secluded lot in Kentucky
I grew up with my grandmother and grandfather living "across the way" from my great-grandmother. Their houses faced one another, and as a little girl looking out my grandparents' front windows, I imagined the two houses whispering secrets about the people living inside them. My great-aunt also had a tiny two-story not fifty yards away down the gravel driveway. Turning off the two-lane road onto my family's secluded two-acre lot in Hodgenville, Kentucky, the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln and population of 3,338, felt like a hidden world.
"Don't go down by the road or by the pond," I can recall my mom saying every time I headed outside. By the time I was 11 years old, I felt way too mature for these overprotective tips but not too grown-up to explore underneath the giant trees.
Testing my boundaries, I wandered too close to the pond to check the water level. Feeling proud of my somewhat sneaky accomplishment, I looked to see if the summer rains had made a difference, and yep, the water was higher. Then I remembered my grandpa's warning about the snakes, so I stayed out of the tall grass and didn't linger. I went to find my younger sister because, with the woods all around, the houses and their unlocked front doors, and the huge vegetable garden, playing hide-and-seek in all the yards was epic — I wasn't always found.
When dinnertime rolled around, I knew supper was done when my grandma asked, "Can you walk this plate over?" I hid a smile, fascinated by her thoughtfulness and uncanny ability to cook enough for her mom, too. Watching my grandpa walk down the driveway, my stomach wished it were a holiday. That way, we could all walk across the way and eat the second dessert my great-grandma and great-aunt would have waiting. Visiting my mom's family looked a lot different from how my friends spent afternoons with their relatives.
I miss it all the time
With all those memories tucked away in my brain, choosing to celebrate my 40th at my grandparents' place was a no-brainer. During my weekly visits and extended summertime sleepovers, I was surrounded by generations of my family. It was a safe place where I could explore myself. This tiny corner of Kentucky was the most consistent home I'd ever known, so it was easy to imagine turning off that two-lane road and feeling all the love we'd created meet me there on my birthday.
A short six years later, another milestone moved through our corner when the last house on the property sold. Two years after my grandpa's passing, my grandma was moving into an assisted living facility. While I helped her pack the plates and cups I'd washed and stacked my whole life, I did my best to pack up all the love and self-confidence my family, and this place had given me. I'll miss it forever. To this day, I dream about it: my family, the giant trees, and the houses whispering their secrets about the people who lived there. I wake up wishing I could start my dream all over again.