Okay, so I really don't know it's story, but this is what I do know as fact. There was a husband and wife that lived and passed away here. The husband died before the wife, and I believe they were in their 90's. We bought this house as an estate sale, and the day of the inspection was the day before before the sale of her belongings. As my husband and the inspector were out doing inspecty things, I had the opportunity to walk around the house - around this woman's things. All of her cherished belongings such as jewelry, fancy hats, old records, china, figurines of hummingbirds, and memorabilia of their children were displayed on card tables. Her dresser and cabinet drawers were all open and looked as though her things were placed as she left them. After a few hours of walking around and taking this in, I felt myself getting to know her - like I was house guest to a friend.
I felt sad for her as I put things in perspective for myself. We work all of our lives for our "things", and then we die, and they end up on a card table with a $1.00 hastly written on an orange dot. Humbling.
I could never quite understand when people said you could feel a person's "energy" until then, but I did. I continued to feel it a week later when we got the keys and moved in. I am not talking spooky ghost stuff, but I could practically feel "her" around me by her carefully picked blue tulip wallpaper with matching curtain ensemble in the kitchen, the fancy gold light fixtures, and the handicap bars by the toilet and tub (tee-hee).
Funny thing, but as I started taking down that wallpaper, I found myself mentally explaining - almost apologizing - for changing out her style for ours. I hoped that she would approve of the new green we put in the kitchen, or super bright orange and purple aliens on the Kid's wall. We were were bringing back to life this old, tired house with our young family, and silly me felt this need for her to give me the thumbs up along the way.
Last weekend I was doing some laundry, and out of boredom, my eyes started taking in the surroundings of our unfinished laundry/storage room. I looked up toward the ceiling rafters, and there, practically above my head, I saw the top half of an old white box. Out of curiosity (okay - pure excitement!), I got a ladder and climbed up to retrieve it. And this is what I found...
Yes, it is true... love letters! Seriously, do you think I could sell this story to the Hallmark channel? For the next few days, myself and the Kid (never knew he was such a romantic) laid around and randomly read some of the 100+ letters. The letters were from the 40's, and we learned that he was a pilot in the Army and stationed overseas most of the time. They lived in Rhode Island and Massachusetts their first years of marriage, and it was there that the wife, Barbara ("Barbie"), raised their babies on her own. The letters ranged for 10 years. They were devout Catholic, and by the "My dear... My darling.... I miss you so", I think they lived the great American love story.
Like the pink bow that these letters were wrapped with, I feel this find is the perfect ribbon to tie together the story of us in our new home. The romantic in me likes to think that maybe this is a sign of what is to come; in keeping with the spirit of this house, we are to now meant to raise our family (including our daughter) in it's love. I know this is so cliche, but now more than ever, I believe it is not the "stuff", but rather just the home - and the people in it - where the heart is.
1 comment:
I love it! Thank you for sharing. The first home Ben & I had in Portland was similar. We bought it from a man in his 90's. His wife & only son had past. He was the only owner of this home and he cared deeply for it. It does add to the love we had for the house to know of those stories. I hope you keep those letters. We still have a picture of Martin from the day he moved into that home in the 1950's. I has nice memories for me. I can't wait to see your home in August when we are in town.
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