Memories (Written July 3, 2014)
What was once a house,
What was once a home,
Is now just roof and walls,
A space that is alone.
But lay your head down on the ground,
Press your ear softly to the floor,
And you’ll hear the echos of years gone by,
Of the lives that were lived here once before.
We were doing all this yard work today, getting ready for a big 4th of July party tomorrow, and it sort of got me thinking. What would I change about my house and yard if I had all the money and ability to do so. And I had all these grand plans- seriously, it would be awesome. But, then I sort of started thinking a little more. If I rebuilt my house like that… it wouldn’t be quite the same. Re-building the house would be the same as us fixing it up, you know? I mean, all the memories in that house would be left out of the new house. And I do mean memories in the house. You know what I mean. Some people’s houses seem really sterile, and un-lived in; but other’s have a certain character to them, like they have absorbed some of the life that its occupants had. That is why I really love old houses. They have character. The are unique, because none of the other houses around them have been lived in by the same people. They have personality that is harder to find in new houses.
So, yeah, this really makes me want to get a real start on that story I’m gonna write about the kid who can talk to walls. It is going to be amazing, and I suspect it will also be very sad. Or, rather, nostalgic.
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