Monday, July 1, 2013

Going Home

My post today is bitter-sweet. It first happened three years ago when I attended my Aunt Helen's funeral. I hadn't seen my cousins for many, many years and when I saw them it was a shock to see they were now "mature." I'm sure they thought the same about me, but I wasn't thinking of that.

While I was in Alabama I wanted to visit their old homeplace, but it had long ago burned down. However, my cousin Sue Leigh told me the barn was still standing. I had to go and see it.
As we were driving down the dirt road to the barn I could see us children playing in the yard. I could remember playing all day until we were tired out and then Aunt Helen calling us in for a supper of fresh vegetables from their garden. I enjoyed seeing my cousins and my Aunt Jeannette, my dad's last living sibling, but it made me miss the times when we were young and things were simpler as children. I cried for three days solid. It didn't help to realize I belonged to the last generation before my children. I knew that I would have to work on growing old gracefully. I have one year left in my 50's so I'd better hurry and get started on that goal.
It seems that the more mature I get the more nostalgic I get. I wonder if this is normal? I did something the other day that even surprised me. I live only a couple of miles from the home I grew up in. I drive by it often and I've longed to stop by and ask if I could walk through it. Well, guess what. I did it the other day. Fortunately, the lady that lives there is precious and she let me look through it as much as I wanted. I opened closets, the oven (original) and went through the basement where we'd take our bicycles and ride them around or skate. The shed that my dad built for my horse is still standing - well okay half standing.
It was wonderful. I could see my mother sitting in her favorite rocker, my brothers in their room, and I could see my furniture in my old room. Yes, it was bitter-sweet and I cried some, but I wouldn't take anything for that trip down memory lane. Have you longed to do something like this? Maybe this will give you the encouragement to do so. Denise the owner was so glad I stopped by. My parents had built the house and she had many questions to ask me about it so she was thrilled to meet me. Let me know what you think about growing older. We're all going to do it  - there's only one alternative.

 Deborah Malone’s first novel Death in Dahlonega, finaled in the American Christian Fiction Writer’s Category Five writing contest! Deborah was also nominated for 2012 Georgia Author of the Year in First Novel category. She has worked as a freelance writer and photographer, for the historic magazine “Georgia Backroads.” She has had many articles and photographs published, and her writing is featured in “Tales of the Rails,” edited by Olin Jackson. She is a member of the Georgia Writer’s Association. As a current member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and she has established a blog where she reviews Christian Fiction. She is also a member of the Christian Author's Guild. Deborah also contributes to Sleuths and Suspects blog. Her books "Death in Dahlonega" and "Murder in Marietta" are available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Her website is and she loves to hear from readers. 


  1. Deborah, it sure is tough to go home. We see things as they used to be in our mind's eye, but the reality is far more challenging. Our family home was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina, but the structure survived. We found out later it was bulldozed is is nothing more than an empty lot now. BUT we have our memories, don't we? Of good times and sweet moments in picture and motion that remain tucked away until we summon them back.

    1. My husband's and my first duplex was bulldozed to make way for the Mopac Expressway in Austin, but I can close my eyes and in my mind return to one of the happiest years of my life.

      Sharing memories with others brings us love, don't you think? Now I'm getting all emotional, ladies.

      Thank you both for sharing - it gives insight to who you are.

      ~Nancy Jill


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