“A house is not a home unless it contains food and fire for the mind as well as the body”.
I walked past an old house in the neighborhood daily for the past six months.
A For Sale sign hung out front near the road.
I heard tell that the house had been vacant for about a year or so. It showed. Its appearance was tired looking and weathered with a rotting roof and banisters, and overgrown yard. I always thought it looked sad because of the void of loving attention.
Surprisingly, one day last month, the For Sale sign was gone and then, a husband, wife, and boxer dog moved in. The yard was quickly tackled with chainsaw, clippers and the debris hauled off. It was sad to see a few really, old trees cut down. However, they were near the house and with our coastal storms who knows how long they would have remained. Nevertheless, I wept as I now can see a four-foot tree stump barren of the majestic beauty that once lived there.
Tonight is another stormy night. One that makes you just want to curl up and read a book while looking out at the chaos and feeling all snuggled safe inside.
I can view the house across the way. New porch lights glisten through rain, new windows reveal activity inside, newly installed doors welcome guests and Christmas swag hangs out front. A repaired deck and new roof has replaced the decay. Decay and ruin that occupied these same spots just a short time ago.
A warmth radiates from the house as if it is now finally content. Because it now has a caring, attentive family living inside and the house is once again useful, as it had been designed/intended to be: to shelter humans.
I imagine the house would, if it could, give out a hardy shout… “Da-duh! I’m back!”