house that built me

For the first time in 3 and half years, I am going home!  By the time this post hits live, I should be just about there.  I am excited… Colorado is beautiful, and it is my current home, but there is nothing like the back woods of Michigan to make me feel complete. House That Built Me

Michigan is such a beautiful state, especially when you enter “mid-mitten”.  The trees, the lakes… the wild life… the clean fresh smells…. Heaven on earth, if there is such a thing.

As I sit and write this post, I had to smile to myself with all the family memories that I have, that have made me who I am.

Miranda Lambert’s song “House That Built Me” sums up my feelings of home the best.  It’s almost like that song was written for me. Seeing a trend here? I always have a “song for that”! for just about everything in my life. To me, life is music, music is life.

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 just come in I swear I’ll leave.
Won’t take nothing but a memory
from the house that built me.
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.
“The House That Built Me” By Miranda Lambert

house that built meThe summers spent on my aunt’s farm… bailing hay, milking cows…. Knowing that my grandpa built that old house and my dad was born in it…. I can appreciate all of that now that I am older. As a child, I have to admit that it hadn’t hit me; the family history, and the traditions that I may have taken for granted back then.

Some of my favorite memories from my childhood are all centered on that old farm. It’s where I learned to cook, can, make soap and other various things. Before my grandma passed away, it was her, my aunt, and I camped around an old table my grampa made out of an old barn door.  She would never allow running water into her house… at the time I thought that was weird, but now that I am older, I get it. She never had it growing up herself, to her it was normal. I think we all felt lucky she had my dad and uncles finally put electricity in.

When I was 7, that all changed… It was only my aunt and I camped out around that table, and we had running water in the house.  Such a bitter-sweet memory for me as I sit and type this post.  I am looking forward to reliving that memory with my aunt in the next few weeks.  She is almost 90 now, and I am a lot older, but things will still be the same, including the height chart on the door jamb that leads to the back porch.

You really can go home again.  As I set to pass the lake I used to fish with my grandpa and pull onto that old dirt road that leads to the house, all the memories will flood me as they become reality again.  I will remember who I am and where I came from.

Have any childhood memories from the “house that built you”?  Feel free to share with us in the comments!






Bri K is a mom and grandmother, enjoying the next chapter of her life on the mission of leveling up after 50! Bri doesn't believe that once you hit a certain age or become a grandmother, your likes, hobbies, or lifestyle have to change. "You don't stop living because your kids grew up!"

4 Thoughts on “House That Built Me”

  • I love this article! It is funny how some things did not stand out when we were younger, but as a person ages, memories all come back.

    • Agreed! It’s also said how we do take those memories for granted until it hits us how important they really are. Anyway, I made it safely, now if you all will excuse me, I need to get some fishing in! <3

  • Bri, I had no idea you had a blog, I love it, it’s a fabulous read =) … When I think back to the “house that built me”, my happiest times were spent at the home of my paternal grandmother. She was a sweet, little Mexican woman that taught me a LOT about what it is to love your neighbours. We lived in Orange County, California, being as close as we were to Mexico’s border we saw many immigrants. My Nana would befriend & welcome them, bring them into her home, feed them, help them get situated and be their “mother” away from home. It started off with one immigrant, Chava, and he eventually brought her more. I was often jealous as a young child at the time spent with them, I would just want her to myself. We had so much fun together.
    As a young child, I rang her every morning as soon as I got up, which was usually between 5a & 6a, time didn’t seem to matter as she always happily answered and talked to me until I needed to get ready for school. When I got home I would ring her again and chat for what seemed hours, sometimes after we already hung up, I would still want to talk to her but I was worried about bothering her, so I would ring her back and say that I was “Mrs. Cunningham, the cat lady”. lol .. She always went along with it and talked to me what seemed a few more hours.
    As a teenager, I got a job working in a yogurt shoppe and I would often work late nights. On those nights, I would stop by Panda Express and grab some Chinese food, then I would drive to her house and we would sit in her bed, eat with chopsticks direct from the boxes, and talk about boys.
    She passed away shortly after that, and I had a really difficult time with her loss. She was the only one that seemed to understand me or had any interest in listening to me. I had talked to her every day of my life and I wasn’t sure that I would ever have anyone I could talk to like that again. I remember sitting there thinking that I was the only one totally heartbroken over her loss. I got up and started to walk out of the church and noticed Chava in a pew, absolutely devastated. That is the moment I realised what she meant to other people. What she had been to him specifically, she wasn’t just some lady that helped them, she had become their family in their new country, she took great care of them, as they did for her in return. She had impacted them in such a tremendous way that had made their lives better for having known her. She was an incredible example to me in a very twisted world, I hope to one day be as great a woman as she was.

    • Saffy! Welcome to my little corner of the net! I love the memories that you have shared. Grandmas are the greatest people in the world, I was also close to both of mine. She sounds like she was a wonderful woman. I think you have more of an impact on people’s lives then you realize. Thank you so much for sharing your memories about the house that built you! Loved reading it! <3

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