home again

1618A Denniston had been my home for 20 years. Six Buncher’s lived in that three bedroom one bathroom house and somehow we managed to cope, get ready for school and survive without killing anyone. Denniston Avenue was filled with neighbors who for the most part added zest and character to my life. Denniston provided adventure, angst, enjoyment, excitement hope and purpose. Denniston was my core, the relativity of all that made sense, the place that when defined was home. We shoveled feet of snow from our sidewalks, had over twenty people sit around our dining room table for holiday festivals, morned the death of those we called friends and family, sat in the dark as our house turned into a spooky abode during thunderstorms. It was a place where we viewed a double dose of chiller theater cuddled for safety under a homemade afghan. It was a venue for truth, emotion, admittance of both strength and weakness. Denniston then became a place my parents greeted their grandchildren. A place where stories from the past became news and joy for the next generation of Bunchers. 

One by one as is the case when the days turn into months and the months into years, we journeyed further away from Denniston until my mother was left as the only inhabitant. We grew older, and the moments of now became the priority, and the memories of then still around but fleeting and far between. 1618A Denniston became run down, a shell of what it once was and more of a burden then boom. Finally the next phase of purpose found its way into our lives and my Mother, with great reluctance moved and the house was sold. We helped her pack, picking through the last remnants of remembrance and said goodbye. 1618A Denniston the only place I had called home for the first 20 years of my life finally had the umbilical cord cut. 

Last week, while traveling to Pittsburgh for my Aunt’ 95th birthday my daughter provided me with an amazing surprise. Dani, introduced my sister Francie and I to the current owners of 1618A Denniston and they invited us to walk through their home. It had been almost 15 years since I last stepped foot inside 1618A, and now I was able to step inside and grab a bunch of memories that ha been stored away in some undisclosed file. Francie and I walked slowly visiting each room, carefully touching the walls, inhaling the aromas, closing our eyes and opening up our memory bank. The house was so different yet so much the same. It was new yet retained the old, the stuff that words cannot describe but still have meaning. 

The tour took no ore then 10 minutes but the journey to our past seemed endless. Flashes of youth, visions of family, moments of love, longing lingered caressed our souls inviting us to remember and telling us to never forget. I came to Pittsburgh to celebrate my Aunt’s 95th birthday amazed at how much time had passed in my life to find my Aunt so old. I knew it would be a moment filled with joy as well as contemplation. Where had the time gone and how did it travel by so fast? There I was standing in the living room of the house that was so important to my being, and there I was wondering how did all of that past seem so long ago.

The old adage states you can never go home again. Not sure I can accept that any longer. I did go home and in doing so, I learned that the travel back can stir visions of the future. Had it not been for 1618A Denniston parts of who I am today would have never emerged, and that would have left me a whole different kind of person I am today.