The House By The Kettle Hole HADLEY o'sULLIVAN

My name is hadley O'Sullivan- here are many short stores about memorable events, special people and unique places from my life that i would like to share with you.


A very special name

Hadley Caie O’Sullivan is a name that is as smooth as water. As smooth as the water in Hadley Harbor where my mother sailed with her parents as a little girl. Or as smooth as her wooden sailboat “Annie Caie” which still sails on bright blue bay waters of Cape Cod in the summer months. My name has developed over the years from all of my mother's amazing experiences from her past. My name is Hadley Caie O’Sullivan. The Hadley is a hard sound followed by Caie O’Sullivan which is soft and wavy in a way. The last part of my name can be associated with the peace after the storm. The time of quiet.

My name is like a scarf woven together over time with much thought and effort. My first name came from Hadley Harbor across from Woods Hole on Cape Cod, this is the location where my mom as a little girl would sail oo with her famil.. My mother from time to time brings me back there where I have many amazing memories of swimming off the boat and taking in the beautiful Elizabeth Islands surrounding the cozy harbor with my family. My middle name, Caie is from my great grandmother, Annie Caie. She was a beautiful woman, also known for her baking skills in the kitchen. She was known for her sweet and savory apple pies and her melting chocolate cake- if only I had her baking skills too. The wooden boat, Annie Caie, which my mother sailed on with her family, was also named after my great grandmother It was a beautiful name and a beautiful boat. . I remember about two summers ago on my family vacation week on Cape Cod and my mother had put a secret day adventure together for my father, brother and I. We were headed to Nantucket for the day to visit a boat. This was a special boat and that’s all she said. When we arrived I knew it was going to be such a memorable experience. We pulled up to the boat in a little dingy and written of the side was “Annie Caie”. Once on the boat I got to see where my mother slept her many nights at sea, and where she baked in the sun every day with her sister in reality- where all her freckles came from. Seeing this boat was not only a memorable experience for myself, when my mother and father got to see this amazing boat again it brought back memories. This boat was actually how my mom and dad met. When my Mother’s parents were building a Cape house for my father's parents my dad heard that the builders were also working on a wooden boat. When he went to see the boat he met my mother, turns out the boat was actually Annie Caie. Overall, my name is one I am so grateful to have. My name contains pathways to the past. It is woven delicately together by my mother to reflect on all the amazing experiences she had growing up, and eventually how she met my father. I would never in a million years what any other name than Hadley Caie O'Sullivan.

Gram Gram

We all have that one relative. The one that makes you feel as though you're at home anywhere in the world with them. My grandmother is that person. She's the sweetest woman you will ever meet and has learned so much from her many many years of teaching. She lives on a perfect, little farm in the middle of New York with flowers and colorful barns. She has two of the cutest puppies that run free in the corn fields, and a relaxing pool by the side of the house. In her yellow painted house, My grandmother consistently has warm chocolate cookies whose’ savory smell floats around the decorated halls and stocked kitchen. My grandmother is the one with little girls and boys drawings on her fridge and a toasty warm fire place set perfectly in the kitchen for warming our toes on cold winter nights. I love my grammie.

Grammie, also know as the hip “Gram Gram”, is a short woman who always has on a colorful outfit to match her fun shoes, creative pins or scarfs. She has short and thick hair always brushed to the side from the comb in her purse. She loves to go on long relaxing walks by the ocean and endlessly chatting with her gals. When Gram Gram comes to visit bolton we awake in the morning to smell the cinnamony smell of apple pancakes waft into our bedrooms accompanied by yummy fresh farm bacon. When she comes I never want her to leave, she’s the best Grammie I could ever ask for.

In there?

I open the freshly painted basement door to find the sketchiest stairs in the world leading to my basement. One by one, I step down the wooden stairs, which creak as I go. Some say they sound like a haunted house. Looking up, I spot the rustic lamp hanging from the stairway ceiling. The musty smell of basements and carpets hits me like the slap on the face as I turn the corner on the never ending sketchy stairs. As I approach the bottom of the stairs to the right there's an old wooden door with a black, outdated handle. I am in my favorite place.

My favorite place in the house is a place used for storage, an unorganized area brimming with boxes and boxes of memories, from little children's books to colorful pottery I have painted as a young girl. I love it down there. The grey cement floor is cold to the touch with cracks from wall to wall. Long winter coats hang from the ceiling like ghosts, waiting for our arms to ease into their sleeves in the depths of winter. Two massive water tanks I no longer notice are assembled in the corner of the room like soldiers. My mother's fancy dishes and sparkling silverware line the wooden handmade shelves along the insulated walls. As I look down, I recollect the memories my close friend and I have made on the grey floor of the dark and eerie room. It was the “ouija room,” a room used for its darkness to play a so-called childish game; a room where we learned answers to questions we would have never known thanks to the ghosts that haunt the halls and walls of my house. A place where we supposedly talked to spirits good and bad. A place I feel safe and warm. The creepy room in the basement is the place I love most in my home.

An old Ouija board

My happy place

My place is happy. My place is beautiful. My place is scenic. The place that use to be dangerous, where I could never touch the splintery and falling apart railing or the hazardous stairs. Until we made it ours. My deck is my happy place.

I walk out the door and immediately see the welcoming views of mountains and valleys. The white, wooden rockers are placed perfectly in the sun and cozy blankets are folded neatly on the couch. The rug, placed in the middle of the deck, is where I have memories of my friends and I laying, baking in the shining sun for days or simply staring at the twinkling stars, glistening at night. To the right is the hot tub where I recover from hard soccer practices or have fun with my friends, and around the bend is the spooky shower you can never see the back wall of. In the dark of night, if you turn the corner into the shower it looks like a never ending black hole. The perfect place for fun and games or even scaring my closest friends. Or on cold nights, when it's hardest to grab a towel all the way on the other side of the freezing cold deck because the shower is so warm. I love watching the sun fall back behind the mountains as the day ends in peace. My deck is my happy place.


Created with images by breatheoutnow - "Ouija"

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