Right now, I’m typing this in the living room of my childhood home…
Looking around, I remember one random night 20 years ago, right in this very room, my family and I witnessed an epic dance competition between my six-year-old brother Sammy and my cousin David. This song poison Bell’s Biv DeVoe production was playing on the stereo, and David looked like the clear winner at first, displaying a smooth moonwalk and a flawless worm. After a few failed knee bounces, Sami ran out of the room.
But a minute later I heard his six-year-old footsteps walking down the hallway. Screaming like George of the Jungle, he jumped onto the couch and took off his shirt, revealing his chest and stomach covered in black marker stripes. For a moment, the crowd – my grandmother, my mother, Theo, my brother and me – stood still. But laughter and cheers ensued—Sammy had won the battle. To this day, none of us know why he thought painting his entire body would win him the title of best dancer. Or why we all immediately agree that it does! But no matter when, we can’t resist mentioning that moment poison came over the radio.
After my parents divorced, my mother, two brothers, and I moved into this house—my grandmother’s home. A year later, my friend Alex and cousin David moved in. From the age of 6 to 17, I lived in a family of seven that was always bustling. Children climbed up and down the stairs playing tag. The San Francisco 49ers were playing on TV and my friend was commentating from the couch. My mother’s heels clicked as she walked up the stairs at 10 p.m., finally arriving home after working the late shift at Ann Taylor.
Sometimes a household with so many people can feel more annoying than comforting. You know that feeling in school when you answer a question incorrectly in front of the class and a kid corrects you with a huge dose of “know-it-all” energy? Imagine feeling that vibe from six other people Every The time after you’ve been sent back to your room for talking back/excluding your sibling from a game/ignoring your chores. It gets really old, really fast.
But looking back now, my favorite part of my childhood home was that it was always vibrant, full of big parties and big people. In the summer, we host family barbecues, have belly-flip contests in the pool, smell the smell of charred ribs, and have a bunch of tias chatting away in Spanish so our kids don’t understand. Those warm evenings, sitting by the pool side by side with my cousins, eating chicken drumsticks and talking about summer adventures, are some of my happiest childhood memories. Even now, when I think of them, I feel safe.
Plus, being around more people gives me the opportunity to learn a lot of life skills. My grandmother taught me how to clean my windows spotlessly and streak-free (using a mixture of water and vinegar!). My teacher taught me how to play spiral football. My cousin introduced me to the wonderful world of eBay. When I look out at piano recitals and graduations and see my family sitting in a row, staring at me, the support I feel is unparalleled. My bag. my people.
What did you love about your childhood house? Is there a reading corner? DIY project? Someone who feels like home? I really want to know.
PS Where did you grow up and where do you want to raise your children?
(Photographed by Roses and Crowns.)
