What makes a house a home?

My mom is the youngest of 5 children. My father was youngest of five children. I have 20 aunts and uncles (because they all married...and some married multiple times...). My mom's oldest sister, CloElla, was almost 20 years older than her and had a baby a year after my mom was born. My mom grew up with her niece being like a sister and her sister being like her mother. So this means, my first cousin (who was 38 years older than me) was like an aunt and my aunt was like my grandmother since my mom's mom died when I was 3, and I don't have a lot of memories of her. 

I do have a lot of memories of my Aunt CloElla. First, I loved her name. Her mother named her after her two best friends, Clo and Ella. While I have always wanted boys, I have had a girl name picked out since college. She would have been Ella after my aunt. I loved her house. She had this front bedroom with two twin beds and all the kid toys. The only doors were slotted doors (like they have in dressing rooms) that didn't close with a door handle. They closed with the little tab thing at the top. It had a big closet with all the toys, and it kind of felt like its own play area. 

She also had a hallway of pictures. I remember standing and staring at all the pictures each time I went over. As you can imagine our family was big and spread out over the country. CloElla was always so patient telling me everyone's name and exactly how they were related to me. 

Her kitchen was wallpapered with tiny little cherries. She had a white a red kitchen table that looked like it came straight from a 50's diner. She had a back sun porch that she used as her pantry and washing room. I remember she would always have some sweet treats stored in there for us when we came. On her guest bed was a quilt that her sister, Betty, cross stitched for her. My mom has an identical one. 

I also remember divinity. Oh the divinity. At Christmas, CloElla used to make divinity. From what I understand divinity is hard to make. I even remember my mother refusing to make divinity because it would never come out like CloElla's. She was a great cook and a great baker. 

I traveled to southeast MO with my sister for her funeral yesterday. It was a quick 12 hour trip. Missy took a red eye from CA and arrived at 8am. We were in MO by 10:30 for the 11-2 visitation and 2pm service. At the visitation, I was able to catch up with family members I haven't seen in 8 years. I was able to hear stories from the people who came to visit CloElla on a weekly basis. One guy brought her dinner every Saturday night. Ibby brought her the gossip of Malden each week while she was out walking because according it Ibby, "Honey, I know everything that is going on in this town." Her mailbox is attached to her house, so her mail carrier knew her well. He stopped by the funeral home, mid route to pay his respects to CloElla.

After the service, her church, which she lived literally next door to, provided us with an enormous lunch reception. This was one of the ministries in which my aunt's participated. She would send pies and other dishes to funeral receptions. In her healthier years she would help serve. The women of the Methodist church in MO were very sweet to provide my family with lunch.

After the reception I was eager to walk through Aunt CloElla's house one last time. I got to see the clock with the roses on it. The wall of beautiful colored glass that I was just sure would come crashing down, her porch and steps, Sparky's recliner, the pull down ceiling light fixture, memories of the small, white, fluffy, spitz dogs. A ton of memories came back while I was walking through it. But then I realized while the house was quaint and nice, it was always the place I could find Aunt CloElla. It was guaranteed CloElla in her house waiting for us. While I loved her house, I loved having her in the house most of all.

 CloElla Sparks

March 12, 1919 - February 8, 2012