"Come to me now, and rest your head for just five minutes. Everything is good, such a cosy room, the windows are illuminated by the sunshine through them. Fiery gems for you, only for you. Our house is a very, very fine house. With two cats in the yard, life used to be so hard. Now everything is easy 'cause of you." ~crosby, stills, nash, & young

My grandparents have moved from the house where they lived for over 25 years. I miss their old house. It was where I was brought home from the hospital and spent the first few months of my life. I loved visiting them in that house. I loved swimming in their pool and playing croquet on the lawn and sitting on the incredibly Southern front porch with the huge pillars and gathering pinecones and wandering around the rooms greeting the hundreds of teddy bears scattered around. I inherited my pack-rat qualities from my grandmother. That house was so full of...I don't want to say stuff because it sounds so trivial, but I don't know what else to say. She had so many knick-knacks, so many dolls, so many teddy bears, so many antique collections. It was like heaven to a child. All the walls were covered with photographs of our family and needlepoints made by various family members (I even contributed). I loved that house. I always said I wanted to inherit it.

They've moved into a smaller house in a separate part of their old neighborhood; it's a living community for senior citizens, with different levels of housing depending on your needs. They have their own house, and it's a nice house, but there's not nearly enough space for all of their belongings. They've settled in and have taken over the space, but the garage is still filled with (full) boxes and much of their stuff was distributed amongst family members when they moved (I have a bed, a lamp, a set of nesting tables, a chest, a tea set, and many, many other little things). On this visit my grandmother has already given me more things to take back with me (I've agreed to take two rugs, perfume, old pictures, and who knows what else). I like being able to fill my apartment with reminders of their old house. It makes it feel more like home.

One cool thing about their living situation is that their house came with a golf cart. Everyone here has one, and they use them to drive around the neighborhood. They eat dinner in the dining room, and they drive to dinner in the golf cart. I got to drive tonight. I love driving golf carts; for some reason they're so much more exciting than cars. I'll never forget the time when my brother was driving a golf cart on their golf course and drove straight through a white picket fence. It was thrilling. Although I don't think my grandfather was too happy, because I'm pretty sure he had to pay for the fence. Anyway, I liked driving the golf cart to dinner. Dinner was interesting. I was the youngest person in the room by about 50 years. I met many of their friends, some of whom were very interesting characters. They were all very nice. I love hearing my grandmother's southern accent deepen. When she's just around us it isn't that noticeable, but when she's surrounded by other southerners it becomes more pronounced. I love that. I love the south. It's in my blood.

I guess that's all for now. I really need to go to bed. I got up before 5:00am this morning and it's almost midnight, so I'm tired. But I'm glad to be here.