I’ve been going through some old photos…
One picture, a thousand lovely memories! She had such a wonderful Old Country Home, with the big front porch, and an enclosed one on the side, where we would have an evening snack and listen to the silver maples rustling in the breeze. She had a big ol’ piano that she’d let me bang on, though I don’t know how to play. A few of us used to sometimes go there after Sunday night service, and be served something delicious to go with the happy talk. Her husband (of just a few years) had a bad heart–he used to talk about going around “with his heart in his pocket”. We hadn’t known him very long when he passed away, but whenever I sat in his big chair in the kitchen, I felt like he was hugging me.
I remember the first time I stayed there for a week, to keep Mrs. Eberts company. It was in the winter time, and I was so, so worried… because I’d understood that she only wanted me for a week or two, and hadn’t gotten permission for more than that. Soon it became obvious that there was a misunderstanding–she was expecting me to stay the winter! It was hard to break the news, both to her, and to my mom (not knowing what to do), but we eventually worked out a compromise I believe, that I could spend time between home and Mrs. Eberts place (several miles away).
She believed that teenagers needed a huge breakfast, before catching the bus for school–like both oatmeal AND eggs, for example. They were always farm-fresh eggs of course; I remember picking some up for her by bicycle, from a nearby farm. She also got fresh chickens from the farms, to put in her freezer–and they sure tasted better than anything you could buy! Mealtimes were more than just eating. She would get talking about her past, telling some great stories about what had happened in that house, many years before.
My bedroom upstairs had dormer windows, and there was even a special “country smell” to her home. Maybe that had something to do with the grove of ancient lilacs in her side yard, visible from the kitchen “window over the sink”. There was some wilderness behind her home, which seemed like a wonderful place to go exploring… except that she didn’t like me to go too far, in case there were bears. (That was so hard to obey!)
I helped her in various ways, like with her plants in the spring. One time I did the dusting for her, before company arrived (probably missionaries). Unfortunately, I wasn’t used to using a polish-spray, and had put so much on the wooden chairs, that people found they had it on their clothes when they got up!
That dining room also reminds me how we used to spend some mornings watching 100 Huntley Street on TV.
A few times, she had to spend a weekend in the city, so she would get me to have a friend over for the weekend. Glenda stayed once or twice (and once with her sister Donna), Nancy Brady came at least once (I remember finding a wild kitten under the deck while she was there). When I was finished high school, I kept going back to spend a few days with her, or to babysit the house while she was away. One summer, I rode my bike all the way back home, just for a morning dip in the pool!