Tia's House
I'll never forget the house my aunt and uncle lived in while they lived here in the desert. It was my second home as a child. They were like my parents. Every chance we got we'd pack our things and set out for my aunt's. It's been almost seven years since I last set foot in the house, but I can remember it like it was yesterday.
She lived out in Thermal, which is eleven miles from our house in Indio. We would pack our bags with our swim suites and a pair of clothes to stay the night and would end up staying the whole week.
The drive there was a long one for three little kids who were no older that six and as young as two. I remember the bumps in the road and the sounds we would make as we drove over them, and simultaneously clapped; "poocapaca, poocapaca, poocapaca." To my parents it was noise; to us it was music. The closer we got the more excited we became. "Are we there yet?" Our excitement was just waiting to burst like a balloon.
Finally, we could see the row of grapefruit trees that stood in front of my aunt's house. "There's tia's house, one of us would shout." As we pulled into the driveway (which was a thick layer of nothing buy tiny little rocks) we could see the little house with the sun beating down on it. Right away our attention was drawn from the beautiful house to their four dogs, who began barking at every car that drove by. Before the car was even stopped we would all jump out and run into the house, yelling, "hello, hello, we're here."
The kitchen was the first thing you could see when you came in the house. It was small, and it had pink counters with little brass knobs. Over the sink was a little window that gave a nice view to the yard. Through the kitchen was a door that was very rarely closed, and led to the den. The den was where we spent our mornings watching T.V. I remember the huge T.V. they had a with a VCR on top and my aunt's nick knacks all perfectly placed in there spot. On each side of the T.V. was a bookshelf on e was full of Big boos, the other was full of fun movies for us to watch. On the very top shelf was the satellite box, which meant more to us than like itself at that time.
Through the den was a dark hallway that led to the bedrooms. On the left was the master bedroom where my aunt and uncle slept. It was always dark and mysterious. So dark you couldn't even see your hand in front of your face (they were both nurses and slept during the day.) On the right was the bathroom. It was decorated in a light pink color, that looked like Pepto-bismol. The counter had a glass perfume tray with all my aunt's perfume sitting on it. If you kept going from the bathroom you would run into the bedroom that belonged to my cousins. They had bunk beds with Heman bedspreads, and baby blue wall paper. There were two huge book shelves full of toys. We spent hours building huge towns in that bedroom. One of us was a banker. One of us was the mayor, and the other a grocery store owner. We'd play until bedtime or until our aunt ( or tia to us) would call us for dinner. At dinner time we all sat at the dinner table as a family. Each of us in the same spot every time.
The dining room was only big enough for the table and a cabinet they had. It was made of oak, and it was right next to the living room. The living room had the couches that they still have today. The white and brown color that matched the huge rug that lay in the middle of the room. The walls had several huge paintings all of which were hand painted by their grandmother. There was a huge sliding glass door that was never used. As you looked out the glass you could see the pool and bar-b-que area, and it the background the beautiful mountains.
Outside was where we spent most of the time we were there. They lived on five acres of land which meant lots of space to use our imaginations. We would wake up at dawn to put on our swim suits, and have underwater adventures in the pool. Before jumping in we would go around the pool rescuing the frogs that had jumped into the pool the night before. Since the pool was surrounded by cement, making a cute patio area with lots of room, we were able to ride our bikes around the house. We played cops and robbers, and tag. On the out skirts of the patio was the grass and dirt making what we called the backyard. In the middle of the yard was a huge Mulberry tree that had branches that stretched out 20 feet. The branches had huge green leaves that we would use as our meals in our pretend world. The tree has been built into a lush tree house by my uncle. The wood that was used was painted fire engine red. It was a two story tree house with trap doors and windows. The tree house was our play area for years.
Hanging from one of the branches of the tree was the homemade swing my uncle made. It was low to the ground so that even my two year old sister could swing. Right below the tree house was a red and white swing set that was faded from the sun and coming apart from all the years of torture. It was used as a alternative way to climb the tree house. Right across from the tree house was a shed where all the tools were kept. Next to the shed was a chicken coop where all the chicken stayed except for Bach, their pet chicken, who ran around the yard leaving little while traces behind.
I remember summer after summer my aunt had huge birthday parties for my cousin, and summer after summer the tree house got smaller.
One summer we discovered the huge orchard right behind the house. It was an orchard of tangelo trees that went on for miles. We would go in the orchard and play our games of Goonies, and we would hide from the cars that drove by. We'd play in them for hours, and we'd come back with our muddy pants and dirty little hands and feet at the end of the day, tired from the hard long hours of play.
The summers grew shorter, and the time we spent at that house was less and less. Then one day my aunt and uncle decided to sell the house and move to Utah. They packed all they had and left the little house behind. The little house with the little hand prints in the cement. The little house with the pomegranate tree by the fence and "The Rusty Nail" the shed where the tools were kept. The house with the Mulberry tree.
Today there are other children calling the tree house theirs, running through the orchard, swimming in the pool and swinging on the swing. They are making memories much like the memories that I have or my childhood days. Even though the house is gone and I am grown up I will always remember the memories I made as a young child.
1 comment:
That was so beautiful!
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