Mother's old house burnt down yesterday. I grew up there, and mother grew old there.
All the paper says is the fire was apparently linked to the dryer.
The photos online show a quite different house than the one I recall, since it has been sold twice and remodeled to the ground. Not your daddy's chevrolet, nope.
The barn collapsed a few years back, and the land has been split up, and now the house is gone.
I dont miss the house nearly as much as I miss the barn.
What I do miss is the fact of the house, the ancientness of it, the history of it.
Tomorrow, perhaps, or tonight, it will hit me. Or maybe not at all. There were a lot of good times there, and I will always have the remembrance of them. There were also a lot of difficult times, and I try to learn by those.
They say when you sell a house, never go back to see what's happened. I rarely did, since my travels almost never take me that way. And when I did I understood the meaning of that sentence...
Cate, how appropriate your own six words were this week.
found this from our local paper