My Grandmother’s House

“If you cry while you are writing the lyric, that’s catharsis. If other people cry after hearing it, that’s craft.”

~ Bruce Madole, “Close to the Bone” in Canadian Musician, Nov/Dec 2009, p. 58.

A little over a year ago I sat down at the piano to write a song about some important women in my life: my aunts, my “other mothers.” It was well-intentioned, but inspiration often doesn’t cooperate in the direction we think it should go. I was surprised to find myself “in” my Grandmother Taylor’s living room. I grew up on the same farm where Grandma' lived. She was part of my everyday world. If mom wasn’t home after school, I would usually go to Grandma’s house, where I might find her in baking or napping or playing Scrabble or reading. She was soft and loving. Her little bungalow was clean and cosy.

Grief is a strange thing. Following the memories, playing and singing what I saw, I was surprised by the deep sobs that rose. Grandma died fifteen years ago. I was living in Taiwan at the time, so couldn’t get home for the funeral, but Aunt Evelyn sent a tape recording of the funeral. I carried it around all day until I could get home and play it and cry through it. I hadn’t really cried or even thought extensively about Grandma since that day in 1993. Did I think I was done grieving her? Apparently there was unfinished business.

That writing experience was evocative, but the initial song was not: it needed crafting. My brother Jeffrey gave helpful input on song structure and melody. The metaphorical bridge about hollyhocks and cousins had to go. My mom suggested stronger images and verbs. Dara Hallett suggested a lower key.

My grandmother is one of my “other mothers”: a woman whose of indelible influence in my life and the lives of many.

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A few months later I shared the song during the Minus 40 Tour with Dara and recorded it for our live album. This month “My Grandmother’s House” is on the IndieHeaven Fan Faves chart. Please have a listen and vote for it. You can also buy the digital track (or the entire album) there. Physical CDs are available through www.colleenanddara.com.

LYRICS:

This is my grandmother's house

This is the clock that she wound

This is the chime that would strike

To count the hours

This is the couch where we sat

It’s the place where she napped

And the blue afghan she wrapped

Me with love in.

CHORUS 1

I haven't been here in some years

I haven't walked through these rooms

To visit these memories

I haven’t seen her face or heard her voice

Yet somehow she’s here for me

I hold the books that she read

I see the Scrabble we played

Find my poems she saved

In her silver chest.

I taste her dark chocolate fudge

Smell her bread as it bakes

Savour meals that she served

At her table

CHORUS 2

I haven't been here in some years

Just let me walk through these rooms

To visit these memories

I haven't seen her face or heard her voice

Yet somehow she's here for me

Beside the violets she grew

I view the albums she made

Receive gifts she had stored

In her steamer trunk*

I hear the prayers that she prayed

I smell the wood burning stove

And snuggle up in the quilts

She made to warm us

 

CHORUS 3

Just let me stay here for awhile

Just let me walk through these rooms

To visit these memories

I can recall her face and hear her voice

Somehow she's here for me

This is the life that I live

And now who I've become

Echoes back who she was

In who I am

 

* I have changed the lines “receive gifts she had stored in her steamer trunk” to “view the albums she made with photos from our family story.”