I’m Sending a Letter to the People Who Live in my Grandma’s House

Have you ever gone back to the house that you grew up in? I'm gonna try, because I'll regret it if I don't.

This was my grandma's house in Libertyville, Illinois. It's a northern suburb of Chicago. She and my grandfather bought it for almost nothing and raised 8 kids there, including my mom. We spent many weekends and holidays there, and at my grandma's funeral two years ago, my entire family was still telling stories about "the house on Victory Drive."

My grandfather passed when I was 7, but we had planted a tree in the backyard. My grandma moved out in the late 90s, but this will always be "grandma's house." When it went up for sale a few years back, my family shared the listing and got to peek inside to see how it had changed.

We visited so much that I was best friends with the neighbors and spent many days at THEIR house, too.

Ironically, I'm going back to Libertyville for a personal matter next Friday; it's the first time I've been back in about 20 years. A lot has changed in my family; grandma's gone, her sister is gone, and two of my uncles have passed since. I've also moved to two different states since then, so it's not like I get to drive by every once in a while.

Since we all still talk about the house, I figured that I'd go for it - I'm sending a letter to the owners (I don't even know their names) to see if they'll let me take a look around the house when I'm in town.

I sent tidbits about the house in the letter, along with pictures of myself and my family inside it.

Basically, the letter is trying to convince the owners that I'm not totally crazy. It's going in the mail today.

This whole experience has reminded me of the Miranda Lambert song, The House That Built Me. I'll let you know if I hear back! Fingers crossed!