This was the last time I would see the inside of this house, as my grandparents would soon be moving to an assisted living complex. This was a place that I stayed for a week or so almost every year as a kid, visiting my mother's family. It changed only slightly over the years. I can remember always looking for the small differences. Maybe a different bed spread, different set of photos sitting atop the dressers, or maybe a new area rug. Nights of dishing clanging below after dinner, playing with action figures on the stairs with my cousin, over hearing adults reminisce about this or that. Days of bouncing off the walls, being a bored little brat who just wanted to go outside, but hating the midwestern humidity.
History of Home is a representation of what it means to be attached to shelter. To fill it with the things that are yours and make into a place that is you. More personally, it also functions as a way to relate to my family as time passes. And come to understand the ways in which we are connected, in all senses of the word.