Childhood Memories

I'm feeling pensive this week having just received news of a family friend's death. Ila was 92, so by most accounts, she lived a full and active life, but her passing was unexpected just the same. To be more precise, Ila was my mother's best friend and our families camped together every summer throughout our childhood. In many respects, she was like a second mother to our entire family, and her youngest daughter, Kristen, was our best friend. Kris was one of the few friends Jill and I shared equally and we spent a significant amount of time at one another's homes reading "Archie" comic books and eating Reese's peanut butter cups in the comfort of our sleeping bags. (Kris' father spoiled us rotten so we preferred our overnighters there.)

Sadly, life has a way of intervening as people grow and go their own ways. Regrettably, we lost touch along the journey, but even so, the loss of Ila feels profound, like a well-loved chapter that's forever closed.

Memories can be overwhelming when you suddenly hear about the loss of someone who shaped your childhood in meaningful ways. I'm fondly remembering all the times we spent at each other's houses for Fourth-of-July pool parties. (The Mirandas had a doughboy out back and we played endless games of Marco Polo), the Tripoli and charade games our families played on camping trips, and New Year's Eve galas when we were "shooed" upstairs while the celebratory adults danced below. The sounds of Tom Jones and the Supremes drifted up the stairs and we'd sneak down in our pajamas to watch our parents mix and mingle through the railings. If memory serves, Ila was a great dancer and never lacked for partners. It all seemed so glamorous to our young, impressionable eyes.

While transforming homes is a significant part of what we bring to the process, Sarah, Jill, Kate, and I never forget that homes are filled with genuine memories. It's why selling or buying a property is a uniquely personal experience, and why it can be so difficult to trust the process and let go. (We got you.)

Fear not, the good news is that our memories travel with us. Warped and bent by time, they nonetheless serve as touchstones for the important moments of our lives: birthday and graduation parties, Christmas mornings spent opening presents, Easter egg hunts out back, Halloween trick-or-treating, and in my case, Passover dinners with Cliff's family. Whatever your culture celebrates, it often begins and ends at home.

But it's the smaller moments that stand out most. I'm thinking about my kids now and the sports-team gatherings we often hosted at our Piedmont home; barbecues, swim parties, movie nights, game nights, and dinner parties under the gazebo, throwing fetch with the dog, pitching to the boys in the batting cage, and always, the scent of fresh-baked cookies. It was all fairly magical and I'm certain I didn't appreciate it enough while it was all happening. (I do now.)

Whatever your home means to you, know that we will honor the story it has to tell, and then do our best to improve upon it so that the next owner can begin to craft their own set of memories. Fill your house with love and laughter and let that be your legacy because time is fleeting and sometimes, we're reminded of the uncertainty of it all with a brief email and an unexpected note from the past.

Rest in peace, Ila. Thank you for all your love and support, the many meals, the home-sewn gifts, and your presence through the years. You will be missed.

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