602 Peacher Street
A little blue house sat in the middle of Peacher Street in Chillicothe, Missouri. The shutters were red and there was always exciting events going on in or outside of the house. It doesn’t look special, but that little blue house will always be a huge part of my life. The house belongs to my grandparents and taught me how to love, gave me a sense of security, and helped me learn to prioritize.
Nana’s house was a place that taught me how to love other people and how to use proper manners. The first memory I have about my grandma’s house is going to the babysitter. My grandma, nana as I call her, was a babysitter for thirty years and all of my childhood. Some of the first memories of my life are at her house. I remember sitting in her old, torn, green rocking chair watching The Princess Diaries almost everyday during naptime. I remember playing house with all of the other kids, and I always wanted to be the “mom.” That was when I developed my love for family and made some lifelong friends that I still have today. I also remember sitting on the timeout step or standing in the corner when my “mom” character got a little too serious, and I decided to punish the other kids. We sat at the kitchen table for lunch and were not allowed to leave until we finished our milk and asked to be excused. At Nana’s house I learned love and manners.
Nana’s house was a place that I could feel safe in, and that I could count on to never change. Around Christmas time when I was seven, my parents changed my life forever by announcing their divorce. Through the next several months there were arguments that seemed to be never ending. My two year old brother and I went back and forth between houses week by week, and I felt as if I was living out of a suitcase. All aspects in my life were suddenly completely different; all the stability and love in my family that I had previously felt was gone. This was when I felt my first heartbreak, and the only place I felt safe was my Nana’s house. Nana was my rock, and her house was my safe haven while I was having feelings that I had done wrong. I was forced to grow up at an early age, and Nana sat me down and helped me understand. That house was my only sense of security and normality. At seven years old my grandma held me in that same old, ragged, green rocking chair. My now separated families moved houses and changed neighborhoods more than once during the next couple years, but that little blue house on Peacher Street was always there for me. At Nana’s house I learned maturity, and how to mourn and cope.
As I’ve grown into a busy teenager I still try to make it a priority to spend as much time at my Nana’s house as possible. I still love spending my afternoons sitting on their couch, listening to stories about her and my Papa’s recent travels. They have intriguing stories of their past and their lives together over the last several decades. They recently celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary, and seeing how in love they are after all of those years gives me hope for my future. I also love cooking with her in her familiar, cozy kitchen; it reminds me of when I was young and would sit back in awe at the number of dishes she could cook at one time. At Nana’s house I learned hope and how to prioritize.
I’ve learned love, safety, and priorities in that little blue house all throughout my life. The house has played an important role in making me the person I am today, and I know that it will continue to mold me in the years to come. No matter how old I get, I know I will always be able to count on the little blue house on Peacher Street.
Nana’s house was a place that taught me how to love other people and how to use proper manners. The first memory I have about my grandma’s house is going to the babysitter. My grandma, nana as I call her, was a babysitter for thirty years and all of my childhood. Some of the first memories of my life are at her house. I remember sitting in her old, torn, green rocking chair watching The Princess Diaries almost everyday during naptime. I remember playing house with all of the other kids, and I always wanted to be the “mom.” That was when I developed my love for family and made some lifelong friends that I still have today. I also remember sitting on the timeout step or standing in the corner when my “mom” character got a little too serious, and I decided to punish the other kids. We sat at the kitchen table for lunch and were not allowed to leave until we finished our milk and asked to be excused. At Nana’s house I learned love and manners.
Nana’s house was a place that I could feel safe in, and that I could count on to never change. Around Christmas time when I was seven, my parents changed my life forever by announcing their divorce. Through the next several months there were arguments that seemed to be never ending. My two year old brother and I went back and forth between houses week by week, and I felt as if I was living out of a suitcase. All aspects in my life were suddenly completely different; all the stability and love in my family that I had previously felt was gone. This was when I felt my first heartbreak, and the only place I felt safe was my Nana’s house. Nana was my rock, and her house was my safe haven while I was having feelings that I had done wrong. I was forced to grow up at an early age, and Nana sat me down and helped me understand. That house was my only sense of security and normality. At seven years old my grandma held me in that same old, ragged, green rocking chair. My now separated families moved houses and changed neighborhoods more than once during the next couple years, but that little blue house on Peacher Street was always there for me. At Nana’s house I learned maturity, and how to mourn and cope.
As I’ve grown into a busy teenager I still try to make it a priority to spend as much time at my Nana’s house as possible. I still love spending my afternoons sitting on their couch, listening to stories about her and my Papa’s recent travels. They have intriguing stories of their past and their lives together over the last several decades. They recently celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary, and seeing how in love they are after all of those years gives me hope for my future. I also love cooking with her in her familiar, cozy kitchen; it reminds me of when I was young and would sit back in awe at the number of dishes she could cook at one time. At Nana’s house I learned hope and how to prioritize.
I’ve learned love, safety, and priorities in that little blue house all throughout my life. The house has played an important role in making me the person I am today, and I know that it will continue to mold me in the years to come. No matter how old I get, I know I will always be able to count on the little blue house on Peacher Street.