"The House" is always home

As I lay here, in another country, in my new home, I reflect back on all the places I have lived. At seven, I moved out of my grandparent’s home and away from my family, my mom moved up-island and I had to move with my dad. It was great, but at seven even I knew he had no clue, so I tried to make it easy for him. He was a chef and had a good job with a hotel chain. We lived in a one bedroom apartment across the street from school, near downtown Victoria. I was happy, but being an only child, I missed "the kids". "The kids" are my first cousins, and we all grew up together. My mom thought it was best for me if I lived with my dad because she wanted me to experience life outside of the paralyzing effects of alcoholism and destructive lifestyles on the reservation.
On long weekends and holidays my grandparents would come pick me up for a visit. My grandpa had many cars, but one particular one that I remember is his Monte Carlo, he loved it, I remember it had that old man pine tree air freshener in there, mixed with the smell of his brylcreem, we would jam out to his oldies songs playing on this tape deck player and head home to Sidney. My mom and I would share a room on our visits, sometimes I would miss her by a week, but once in a while we would visit my grandparents on the same weekend. On those weekends my little world seemed to be all balanced out, I had my mom, my grandparents, and my cousins and I was home again. My grandparents have nice property, on the mountain, overlooking the airport through the trees. My three uncles have houses surrounding the main house and at night it gets so dark, you can’t even see your hand in front of you. Many wildlife come through the property and we have a family of owls that sing to us at night.
One winter break, my mom came to pick me up from my dads and we went to my grandparents place. It was winter of '96/'97 and el nino created the perfect snow blizzard. It snowed steady and thick for a couple of days and when it was through we had almost 6 feet in some places. That's a lot for the northwest; it usually snows for a day then rains it all away. This time, everyone was stranded, not just us suburban folk from the mountain. On the second day of fallen snow, my mom and I went to get some groceries and whatever we might need for the next few days. The snow was getting so think that even taxi cabs were refusing to pick up anyone. At the grocery store, there was a woman standing outside with all of her groceries, she said she had been waiting for almost two hours for a cab. So we loaded her bags of eggo waffles, coffee, cat litter and groceries into my moms 4x4 bronco, and drove her home. We were the only ones on the highway and we knew we had to get home really quick. It continued to snow and as far as we knew nobody was going anywhere. My grandpa had his fire blazing in the woodstove, tea was always ready, and everyone even my gram gram (grandma’s mother) was home. That night the whole family came together, my uncles and their families came down to “the house” and pitched in and we had a big turkey dinner, better than Christmas, just days before.
Though this may have been the last time I’ve spent the night there, and I’ve lived in about 6 places since that winter blizzard, I still recall the warmth and unity our family had when we all came together during that time. I am grateful for the decision my mother made, for I have had a healthy, “normal” life. When I’m visiting the family these days, I stay in my own home, just down the road from “the house”. The house has changed since my days, the next generation of “kids” is growing strong. My cousins have families of their own and they’re making memories of their childhood.
I am starting my new life in another country, and I am happy, I am building my new home to be as healthy and warm as I can. My last visit home was mostly to pick up the rest of my packed belongings, a quick breakfast with grandma and grandpa and then off home… to Washington.

Crystal Black