
Have you ever heard the song by Miranda Lambert “The House That Built Me”? I listen to it from time to time and the words just hit me sometimes.
“I know they say you cant go home again. I just had to come back one last time.”
“You leave home, you move on and you do the best you can. I got lost in this whole world and forgot who I am.”
“I thought if I could touch this place or feel it this brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here its like I’m someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave. Won’t take nothing but a memory from the house that built me.”
This weekend I am making the trip back to little old Rosharon population 1,100. I am a little ashamed to say but I have not been to visit in quite some time, but since my Mom passed away I feel that I really do not have a reason to visit other than it will always be the place where I grew up, the place from where my roots were planted and started.
I grew up in Rosharon the majority of my life. As long as I can remember my Dad was a rancher, the first 8-10years of my live I grew up on a ranch called Oak Tree Ranch. The ranch had horses, cows, and peacocks! I grew up wild and free, running around without a care in the world. We moved around a lot living in three houses on the ranch never having a permanent home, after that we moved a couple of more times until finally moving to a plot of land that was 3 acres on Creekveiw Dr. off of 1462 and county road 569, that was finally HOME. It was not much, just a very small home that was once a small apartment garage that was turned into a two bedroom house for us to live in. We lived there from the time I started 6th grade until I graduated high school and boy did my Mom love her little piece of land. The one thing I will always remember is her ALWAYS putting up Christmas lights and decorations. I would always ask my Mom why do we put them up, no one will ever see them, we live in the middle of nowhere, no neighbors or anything around us. Her response would be, “For the cows to see them”, lol.
That little yellow house on Creekview Dr. held so many memories for me, we moved there during a time when things around us where getting tough, well tougher than they already were. I grew up in that house, and remember hating it so much and wanting to move away and never come back. It was tough living there, my dad and mom separated a little after we moved there, and life only got harder. Mom did everything she could to provide everything for us and sometimes it was not enough, there were many times we went without electricity and other things. Little that I know this house formed me into who I am today. I hated the fact that we lived so far away from everything and everyone, but looking back I have realized it has made me have a greater appreciation of where I have come from, and keeps in line with my original roots.
That little house is where I learned to mature and grow up and learned that life will not always be easy. You need to play the cards you were dealt like they were the cards that you wanted and my Mom was the prime example of that.
That little yellow house is where I spent many hours working on school work because my Mom was determined to get me to college so I could be the first in my family to graduate from college with a college degree. Growing up my Mom and me did not always get along, but today I see it as her pushing me to do my best and her not wanting me to end up like her, she wanted me to be successful and to not have to struggle like she did, she wanted so much more for me and for that I am forever grateful.
That little yellow house is where my little brother and I got into a lot of trouble being left alone to our own adventures. One time we made a “sled” made out of a piece of wood and decided that it would be a good idea to take it down the hill that led to the creek behind the property. Yeah—not a good idea, my brother was the first to go and as he went we overlooked a nail in the board and needless to say…..that nail got my brother right in the butt!! LOL. Oh so many fun memories of our adventures out there entertaining ourselves……
That little yellow house is where I remember getting ready for my many choir concerts, getting ready for my Quinceanera, never having any privacy, laying out in the hammock in the front yard looking at stars, climbing trees, mowing the grass on the riding lawn mower, burning the trash when my mom was not home and almost setting the pasture on fire and so many other good memories along with many bad memories.
That little house…….What really made that little house was my Mom. I write about my Mom a lot, and it’s because the older I get, the more appreciation I have for her and all that she did for my brother and I, she sacrificed a lot for us and I never want her to be forgotten, I want her memories whether they good or bad, to stay around as long as they can. Everyone has who still have their mom’s get to show their appreciation on mother’s day, birthdays, holidays, and everyday….sharing memories of my mom is simply my way of showing my appreciation of my Mom and letting her memory live on through my writing.. But back to my reason for not going to visit, when my Mom passed I lost my home, she was home to my brother and I, and she was everything to us, she was our rock. For me when she passed I lost everything that I ever called home, I lost a little of myself and I lost that little house on Creekview Dr..
Sometimes I do wish I could go back and touch it or feel the memories come back to me when I am feeling broken and lost. That little yellow house represented everything of my upbringing, but when my Mom passed she took everything with her, and left me a little lost in this big world leaving me with no guidance. That little yellow house is still there to this day but its not my home any more, its someone else home now.
Even though I cant go home again, I will always have the memories that will keep me grounded and rooted. That little house on Creekview Dr. is a representation of how far I have come, I go back and remember I have gone from that little country house to living on my own in a different city making my Mom proud that her little girl is all grown up and is everything she ever wanted. I discovered that after a little time of healing I found myself and learned that home is where ever I want it to be. It was hard letting go of the home that built me because it held so many memories, and also knowing I will never have a true place to call home.
Sometimes I also go back to try to feel my moms presence around me but as the years go by I feel less and less of her there. I come to the realization that I don’t have to go back to feel her, she is with me always and has been walking with me since the day she held her last breath.
The past has to be let go in order to move to the future, its ok to revisit the past to reflect on how far you have come, it only makes you stronger as a person but never forget your roots. Be humble and never forget where you come from.
Here’s to hoping this weekend is full reminiscing on the past and to making new memories.
Here’s to a weekend of facing the past and looking to the future.
Here’s to a weekend of joyfulness.
Here’s to the house that built me and my Mothers memory of her little piece of heaven there on Creekview Dr.
Xoxo-Lyssa


