Dreaming…

So, it’s 2:45 in the morning and as much as I try to write a blog post about fascinating things going on with Blue Eyed Yonder, my mind keeps wandering back to this lovely house I found today.

I’ve always been a sucker for old houses. I love driving by swooning over their curious little details, I wait until the light hits just right to see if the windows have leaded glass, I wonder about the families that may have lived there.

As I do with most old neighborhoods, I smiled as I drove up the beautiful oak-lined street, their massive roots grasping and crawling over the old sidewalks. The first thing I saw was the “for sale” sign. I slowed the truck down to take in the house and the massive magnolia trees in the front yard. Dottie was in the backseat with her head out the window. We both just sat there and stared. As the sun danced through the trees my eyes stung with tears and I had to take a deep breath to keep myself from losing it right there in the middle of the road.

I looked at the little broken sidewalk in front of the house – so old, so worn. The path leading to the front door was paved with old stone tiles, a hexagon pattern. My eyes darted from the comfort of the front porch to the tiny attic window – I felt something odd in my chest, my heart was actually aching. I sat there so befuddled. I had gazed at my fair share of old houses, why was this one making me so emotional? Why did I see myself kneeling in the flower bed planting pansies in the fall? Why did I see Dottie sprawled out on the front porch taking a nap in the sun? Why was Mr. BEY hanging Christmas garland on all the beautiful railings?

I truly can’t explain it. The heart is so mysterious.I do believe things happen for a reason; everything experience has a purpose. I’m just sitting here trying to make sense of this one.

Posted 5/16/13, Topic: Blog, Home

  • natalie
    May 16, 2013 at 7:32 am |

    girl, i do it too.
    certain homes speak to me. they make me catch my breath. they make me cry.
    and i’m telling you–we’ve lived in our house 5.5 years now and not a day goes by the i don’t appreciate it. these old houses are a funny thing that way. just last night i was sitting at the dining room table with cooper as he studied for an upcoming g.c. test and noticed a corner of a yellowed piece of paper peeking out from behind the fireplace. i didn’t go grab it, instead i’m going to daydream a little while about it. was it a receipt? a newspaper clipping? a note? and then i’ll go get it and put it with the other special things we have found at this house of ours…that really isn’t our house. it’s the hall’s house…and the brogdon’s house too. :)

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