Mamaw's house

I have spent a lot of time in my grandmother's house throughout my life. She moved into the house when my mom was a teen and still lives there to this day. Mamaw's house was always a refuge for my family. Right now two of my uncles and a cousin live there with her. When I was six, I lived there. Along with my mom, step dad and brother. Aaron and Lindsey visited less often when we were there. There simply wasn't enough room for them. At the time we shared two rooms upstairs in Mamaw's house. Andy and I were in one, and Steve, Elly and mom were in another. I didn't know it back then, but Steve hadn't paid the rent at the Town house. He spent all out money on drugs instead.

As much as Mamaw's house was a safe haven for us, it was a house of horrors for my mom. My grandma is a compulsive liar. She lies to lie about those in the family. It has gotten really bad since my grandpa passed away 5 years ago. Back then her lies were that she had custody of my brother and I. I remember hearing her say this to people when she picked us up from school, and not knowing what to say. It was strange time living with my grandma. On one hand sitting in her living room watching dinosaurs with my whole family is something I will always cherish. On that same hand, if you ever need anything you could go to my grandparents. On the other, she never really accepted that my mother had grown up. She never really approved of the way anyone chose to live their lives if they didn't live in under her thumb. My grandmother is a complex woman.

If you hadn't noticed, I have a thing for Christmas. I love it. Christmas, however doesn't love me. The Christmas I spent living at my grandma's house was the first of many Christmases I spent sick. I was also probably the poorest Christmas we ever had. I woke up early Christmas morning vomiting. It really wasn't pleasant considering the only bathroom in Mamaw's house is on the first floor. So my mom brought me the big bowl and I laid in bed for a while before everyone else started stirring. No one wanted me to be left out so my grandma brought me downstairs to her bed. Now, my mother doesn't like sick or injured kids. If you were bleeding, she told you to clean it up and get it away from her. If you were puking she said to stay away from her so she didn't catch it. My grandmother letting me lay in her bed while puking my guts out was a gift enough.

I only got a quick glance at my pile of toys on my was to Mamaw's bed so one by one my family brought in my toys and laid them around the room for me to play with. Each gift that was opened was opened in the bedroom where I could see. Each gift I got was something that probably cost my mother $5 or less, but every single thing was amazing in my six year-old eyes.

The Christmas I was six was my poorest, sickest Christmas ever and definitely one of the most memorable.

Dear Mamaw's house,

You aren't always a happy place, but you are the only house that has ever been consistent in my life. You are a place I know I can always turn to when I need a roof over my head, and a big bowl to throw up in.

Love,

Robin, now and always.