To Grandmother’s House We Go

I lost my husband Paul only a few months ago in a car crash. My three children, son Riley eleven and two daughters Bobbi nine and Heidi five, and I need a change after the shock of Paul’s loss. We decided to move back to where I grew up. I lived with my grandmother Greta when I was a child having lost my own parents rather young. When Paul died my aging grandmother offered us a place to recover and I took her up on her offer.  

We all agree to sell the house and while we all know it makes sense to move in with grandma Greta, not all of us like the idea. While Riley wants to sell the house he does not want to leave his friends behind. Bobbi is a little bit upset but she also looks forward to the move and making new friends. Heidi just wants to be with her mommy, brother and sister. She doesn’t much care where we live as long as we’re together.  

When the day finally comes to leave the house and town behind no one is happy about it, except maybe Heidi but then she’s always happy. The realization that we are leaving behind the memories we made in the house leaves everyone else sullen and quiet as we pack our suitcases and other small items in the back of the Subaru Outback. Seeing the suitcases and boxes in the back makes me cry. “How could we have lived so long in this house and be leaving with so little to show for it?” I think as tears stream down my face. I don’t hide my sorrow or tears from my children. I know they are just as sad as I am and just as likely to be crying as well. There has never been another home for them other than this one and leaving it behind must truly be devastating. It may even feel like they are losing their father all over again.

The drive isn’t long but it is long enough that everyone is able to sink deeper and deeper into themselves and their heartache. I reminisce about all the fun we had over the years in the old house. How Paul and I christened every single room. What it had been like to bring each of our children home for the very first time. Now only pain lives in that house. So for the millionth time I tell myself we have to leave. We need a fresh start before the pain and sorrow can suck us down into oblivion. I know that moving to a new town and living with a great grandmother they haven’t visited in years is going to be shocking and hard for them but it is a good idea. “God, I hope this is a good idea. This has to be a good idea.” I also think for the millionth time.

When we get closer to town I decide I have to warn the kids about just how different their great grandmother and her house will be. So with a steadying breath I begin, “Ok kids. I need to tell you about your great grandmother and her house. I know you guys haven’t seen her in a long time and probably don’t even remember her. I know you don’t Heidi you were just a baby the last time we could visit as a family. I was here six months ago and it was different from the time before. Your grandma Greta is a very nice woman but she is a little eccentric and has some very specific rules we must all follow while we are there. They aren’t hard rules and mostly just common sense. There are two rules though that are the most important ones and non-negotiable. Rule number one is that no one goes outside half an hour after darkness falls. Rule number two is that no one is allowed to go out of eyesight in the woods. The woods are heavy around your grandmother’s house and are very dark and very dangerous. There are others but those are the most important. There are wild animals in the woods even back home so it only makes sense here. Her house is very old and creaks a lot. Let me know if you need me to check anything out though. It is really a lovely old house but can also be a little creepy at night with the creaking and wind whipping around it. Can you guys help me out and follow the rules and only bother me with any concerns about the house?” Each of the children nodded in agreement although Riley only does so begrudgingly. He is my little adventurer so it will be hardest on him. Maybe if I go with him deeper into the woods it will be ok.

As we drive through the tiny dusty town I can’t help but wonder what had happened to it. It had never been a boom town but now it could almost pass for a ghost town. After a few more minutes of driving through town with its closed up shops and decaying buildings we make it to grandma Greta’s house. As everyone takes in the house with its empty staring windows and peeling paint the air seems to change inside the car from one of sorrow and pain to one of fear and uncertainty.  

From the backseat Heidi calls up to me asking, “Mommy? Why is the house staring at us? Does it want to eat us?” With the car idling on the long gravel driveway I turn to look at my usually happy little girl and find a terrified one in her place. The sight of her fear breaks me a little more inside.

”Dearest. The house is just old and needs some care. It is fine. It won’t hurt us at all. It needs kids inside again to bring it back to life.” I tell my poor sweet little girl hoping that it will help subside her fears even just a little. Then I put my foot on the gas again and we continued our way up the drive and to the house.

As I put the car in park and everyone exits my grandmother comes out to greet us. She looks almost exactly as I remember but then she always has looked the same even when I was a little girl. That sweet caring face that had comforted me when I was missing my parents or waking from one of my many nightmares is still there only with an extra wrinkle or two. I instantly rush into her out stretched arms for a much needed hug. I didn’t realize until now how much I needed my grandmother to hug me and tell me everything will be ok.

As she held me I finally let it all go and cried. I cried for my loss but mostly I cried for my children’s loss. They are so young, I had prayed that they would never suffer the loss I did as a child but in the end the world truly is cruel and unforgiving.

Once I was all cried out I turned to the kids and ushered them forward. “Come on kids, it's time to meet your grandmother.” I call through tears and in a voice still heavy with them. They look a little uncertain for a moment but recover quickly enough then make their way forward. When they arrive at my side clutching each other my heart is both happy and sad. It is heart warming that even at the lowest point in all of their lives they still try and protect each other.  

Looking at my children I say, with a small smile on my face, “Kids, this is your great grandmother Greta. She raised me since I was a little kid.” I watch as each of my darling children walks up to Grandma Greta, introduces themselves and then shakes her hand. It is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen.

Greta must think the same thing because after shaking Heidi’s little hand she says, “Now aren’t those the sweetest kids I’ve ever seen.” Then turns around and leads everyone inside the big old house.

Heidi rushes to hold my hand as we step onto the old weather worn porch. I can feel her tense the closer to the door that we get. I look down at her and sure enough she looks terrified. I kneel down beside Heidi and say in as reassuring a voice as I can, “It’s okay sweetie. It’s just an old house. It won’t hurt you.” Then after a comforting hug and peck on the cheek I rise again and continue walking, never letting go of Heidi’s little hand.

We cross the threshold single file, each of the children seeming to walk as slow as they possibly can without stopping completely. I can’t help but smile at the memory it conjures up for me. I remember the first time I stepped through the massive old door. I was terrified and truthfully even as an adult that grew up in the house and has visited numerous times during my adult life I still find myself a little scared when entering the house each time. The first had been by far the worst. I was only six when I came to live with my grandmother. I had been so alone and scared without my parents by my side. I had also never met my father’s mother so moving in with her was that much more scary. I never understood why we never visited Grandma Greta and I still don’t. For as long as I have known her Grandma Greta has been nothing but kind and loving to me and my family. It makes no more sense now then it did then.

Grandma Greta says she’ll show us to our rooms before retreating into the kitchen so she can finish dinner. The walk up the rickety old stairs is a solemn one. We are all so tired so none of us looks up from our feet until we reach the next floor and are given our bedroom assignments.  

Riley is somewhat happy when he is led to his room and discovers that not only does he have his very own room, it has a stairway that leads to a kind of nook surrounded on three sides by windows. He quickly disappears up those steps and calls down at the wonderful view all around him. He is equally excited to discover that his room is at the opposite end of the house from all the girls, most importantly his sisters.  

The girls have to share a room but it is very big and has a big bay window at one end complete with a window seat from them to lounge on. I realize that at some point after my last visit Grandma Greta turned the small den into a bedroom complete with white canopy beds and frilly blankets and curtains. Something at the back of my mind sends alarms but the girls love the room. It is big enough for them to play with their Barbies and paper dolls at the same time, allowing them to spread out and not have to put things away when it’s time to stop playing.  

I myself am back in my old room. It warms my heart a bit to see the room exactly as I had left it but it also makes me a little lonely. I close my door, walk over to the bed and lay facedown on it and cry again.

I must have dozed off because some time later there is a soft knock on my door followed by “Mommy? It’s time for dinner.” Heidi’s sweet little voice drifts through the door. I take a big stretch before walking to the door. I am greeted by all three of my children, each looking like they had been crying. Not wanting to venture downstairs when called so they had come to wake me up to go with them.  

Trying to smile while looking at them I say, “Come on guys let’s go eat. Your grandmother is an excellent cook.” Silently we walk down the hall. I feel Heidi tense against me as we step on a particularly loud part of the floor and relax as soon as the sound stops. “Remember guys it’s an old house it makes all kinds of noises.”  

The walk through the house is alarming. I don’t remember the stacks upon stacks of books or the massive cracks running along the walls. They give the house an even creepier look than before. I make a note to ask grandma about it later once the kids are in bed. “Something must have happened since the last time I was here. I need to know exactly what happened so I can get it fixed for grandma.” I think as we continue walking.

Dinner that night is a quiet affair. We are all too exhausted to do more than shovel food into our mouths and none of us talk unless we are spoken to first. It is just nice to be somewhere safe even though we are running from our sorrow, delaying the inevitable. It feels nice to just be able to let go, for however long we are here.

After every one has their fill Grandma Greta clears the table then returns with a chocolate cake in hand. She sets the cake down then goes back into the kitchen for dessert plates, a knife and forks. This time when she returns she sits down but does not move to cut the cake. Instead she looks at each person seated at the table a moment then says, “Now that you’ve eaten it is time to go over some rules then we can have some cake.” She pauses just a moment then begins again, “Rule number one - No one is allowed in my room unless invited. It does not matter what the reason is, you are not going into my room. Rule number two - No one is allowed to go into the woods after dark. No matter what. They are dangerous. End of story. Rule number three - No one is allowed to go out of sight of the house during the day if you go into the woods. It is still dangerous even in the daylight but it is easier to see the dangers approaching. Finally rule number four - Any locked door in this house or any of the out buildings is not to be entered for any reason so don’t try. There is no reason for anyone to be in those areas but me. We will discuss the other rules as they are needed. If you can all follow these rules we will get along grandly. Now let’s have some cake.”  

When she stops talking my kids and I are a little dumbfounded. A couple of the rules seem understandable but the first and last seem weird and actually a little suspicious. I can’t help but wonder why they had been added. My grandmother has always been a little eccentric but this is above and beyond. Even as a child I do not remember there ever being rules like these. Has it really been that long since I’ve lived under her roof? I have come to visit but I’ve always stayed in a hotel or Airbnb for privacy. “Still how could I have missed this much of a change?” I ask myself as I watch my grandmother cut and dish up the cake before passing pieces around the table.

The kids look at their cake a little uncertain and untrusting so to put their minds at ease I grab my fork and dig in. After a moment they begin eating quietly and gingerly as if suspecting it will bite them. I admit I’m eating the same way. There is something off about my grandmother and what is happening with the house. I just can’t put my finger on it.

Then it happens the whole house begins to shake. Things begin falling off the walls, the stacks of books topple to the floor. The kids scream and rush to my side. As we begin to move towards the dining room doorway to leave Grandma Greta moves impossibly fast to block our way.  

“Grandma! We have to leave the house and it may come down on top of us if we don’t!” I yell at my grandmother as she stands in the way keeping us all in the dining room. 

“Oh, dear Sally, you aren’t leaving. The house is hungry and needs to be fed.” Grandma Greta snarls at us. Moving slowly forwards backing us away from the doorway and to the far wall near the fireplace. “Fireplace? Grandma, when did you add a fireplace? It wasn’t here the last time I visited.” It temporarily throws me. What has been happening since I left home?  

Instead of answering Grandma Greta just laughs and laughs, each laugh getting more and more shrill and less sane. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Your grandmother is no longer with us. She hasn’t been for some time now. You were too busy with your life to notice until you needed her.” My “grandmother” says an instant before whatever had been inside her bursts out allowing the shell of what was once my beloved grandmother to flop to the floor. Then it pounces. Leaping the distance between us and it in an instant.

Looking down at what is left of my grandmother all I have time to think before the world turns to screaming and a different kind of pain is, “I should have known better.”