home was...

Home was a twelve by sixty foot trailer that was made of green and white corrugated aluminum on one end and painted rust red on the other.  It was sitting on its axels; which were half buried in fine black sand that’s typical near the swamps in central Florida.  It’s front and rear steps were made of stacked cinder blocks.  

           

To the right inside the rusty tin framed screen door sat granny staring at the TV.  It was propped amidst piles of paper and whatnots, on what was once meant to be a breakfast nook between the kitchen and living room.  Just inside the door to the left was our fridge.  On the right just past granny’s old worn recliner was a couch with a hide away bed we used for company, but I can’t remember ever having any.  I can’t tell you how many spiders and lizards called it home.  Many times while sitting on the couch one would crawl out and scared me to near tears. 

Mine and my mom’s beds were tucked into the end of the living room.  Mama shared a bed with my little sister.  It ran the width of the trailer and the head of my bed fit in just at the foot of theirs.  When I lay down to sleep at night I would stare up at the old broken air conditioner above me and tell all my teddy bears sitting on top of it good night.  I had little apologetic conversations with them in my head about why I hadn’t chosen them to sleep with that night.  Fred was my favorite and knowing the others felt lonely made me very sad.

At the foot of my bed sat Granny’s doll collection.  Their dead unblinking eyes made me nervous. That combined with the guilt from neglecting my own toys gave me nightmares.  The dolls would march across me in my sleep to creep up on the unsuspecting bears then tear them to shreds.  I would wake and pile the bears around me so that my closeness would protect them. 

Granny’s bedroom was at the opposite end of the trailer from the living room.  She had the biggest bed I’d ever seen.  It was tucked in on the front side near the window and mountains of clothes were piled everywhere you could see.  Across from her bed sat a makeup nook built into the wall near her closet.   The makeup table had a mirror above it.  All her jewelry was scattered into little golden clumps and tangles on the table and everything was covered in a blanket of baby powder.  Diamonds and pearls peeked through the powder snow banks and lured me in to play with them every time I was sent to look for something for her.  I never found what I was sent for and eventually my Mama or Uncle David would be sent in to get it.  On their return from granny’s room they would say “MeLinda if it was a snake it would’ve bit ya.” 

The bathroom sat next to Granny’s room and across the hall from our washer.  Many times while sleep walking to the bathroom in the mornings I would fall asleep on the clothes stacked next to the washing machine and once or twice I mistook a pile of clothes for the toilet and peed there instead. 

The bathroom was a scary movie.

Florida is unlike any other place I’ve ever lived.  The outdoors were constantly in our house.  There were giant wolf spiders that carried their eggs in a sack on their stomach, everywhere.  Granny wouldn’t kill them because they apparently ate the roaches.  I never saw that happen but she swore it did.  Snakes and frogs would swim up through our plumbing.  I can remember at least five times I found something live swimming in the toilet when I went to pee.  The shower was the scariest of all.  There was always a spider near the faucet ready to slip into a stream of water and come flying at you while your eyes were closed.  Because of this I rarely washed my hair without someone in the bathroom with me.

  

Uncle David’s tiny room was crammed between the bathroom and the kitchen.  There were bunk beds stacked against the right wall when you opened the door.  The room was so little that when you opened the door it hit the bunk beds.  The head of the bed sat against hurricane windows that were missing the screen.  I used to tie milk crates full of tangerines over the bars of the window.  When Granny or Mama told me that I’d had enough for the day I would just pull the milk crate up and sneak them in that way. 

The kitchen was one of my favorite parts of the house.  They built me a step so I could help cooking when I wanted to.  I would drag it to the sink and play at washing dishes or pull it over to the stove and stir while granny made homemade pudding.  I felt very important in the kitchen.  It was where I really got to interact with my Granny and Mama the most.  Looking back on them teaching me recipes, thinking I’d remember them is funny now, but then I was important. 

Granny moved to Tennessee about five years ago and lives with my Mama now.  She’s working on a recipe book for my birthday present this year.  Her room is still mountains of clothes and there’s still a layer of baby powder that covers anything she gets near.