#house

WHAT'S YOUR HOUSE WORTH A REMIX

Once a year it comes in the mail…a kind of annual rebirth

It’s a card…it’s from a realtor…asking…

“What is your house worth?”

 

This year’s card again got me thinking…and I’m sure Deborah would agree

the value of our house is different for the realtor than it is for Deborah and me.

 

A realtor might pause in front of that bedroom door and frown

wondering who in their right mind could have hung it upside down.

 

She could not know I worked on that door for almost an entire day

and though it is a little different we kind of like it hanging that way.

 

A realtor might want the writing on our closet door erased…

He might not realize it’s part of our family’s lore…

that our children’s and grandchildren’s every changing heights are written on that door.

 

A realtor might see the lights in the kitchen…she might laugh or scoff

wondering why to turn them on…you actually turn them off.

 

She’d have no way of knowing…the switch will stay that way forevermore

having been installed by the same person who hung that bedroom door.

 

A realtor might want that swing in our backyard replaced…its old and shows its wear

He couldn’t know our children and grandchildren grew up swinging out there. 

 

A realtor might see the cracks in the ceiling and become enraged.

She wouldn’t see them as we do…wrinkles that come with age.

 

Yes, a realtor might look at out house and see imperfections behind every window and every door

Never comprehending, in our house, 

it’s those imperfections we adore

 

To a realtor this is just another house as in search of houses to sell they roam 

but a long time ago it became more than that, 

when it became our home.

 

So back to the question of the moment, how much is our old house worth?

The house that has seen us through sadness and joy; through marriages and births.

 

The house where for over 30 years our family has laughed and cried and sat...

The answer is quite simple, you can’t put a price on that.

 

At least that’s what I was thinking as I read on the card the realtor would pay cash!

 

And why I smiled so contentedly…when I tossed it in the trash.


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A HOUSE BEAUTIFUL

 

We are dog/house sitting for friends of ours while they are on a cruise

I’ve heard it said you don’t really know a person until you walk a mile in their shoes…

 

I imagine that is true…in their shoes you walk, you run…you roam

but I also think you get to know a person when you spend time in their home.

 

As I walk from room to room I realize how their house is their memoir

It’s filled with memories…with bits and pieces of who they were…and are.

 

I begin to notice how pictures of their family can be found in every room.

It’s like I’m in a museum…I stop…I look…then I resume…

 

I see old people, young people, babies…pictures spanning generations

all contributing to the story of one family’s creation.

 

I pause at every picture…and as I visit…one by one…

I suddenly realize how many families go into making one.

 

I see love portrayed in pictures of people I know and some who remain unnamed

captured for eternity inside a picture frame

 

Perhaps that’s why we have so many pictures…not only for us to easily see

but every time we pass…it awakens a memory. 

 

In every picture I can see joy…a smile on every face

proving quite definitively how happiness fills this place.

 

I’m sure there’s also been some sadness…some tragedy and fear….

Some people in these pictures I’m sure are gone…but their memories linger here.

 

And we are happy to be sitting in their house as off to other realms they roam…

Knowing not only do they have a beautiful house…they have a beautiful home.

 

 

 

(P.S.   Another reason we’re glad to be in charge as they enjoy their birthday cruise….

 

They left a bunch of unlocked cabinets…and they’re all filled with booze!)


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HIS OLD HOUSE

He loves to walk inside his old house when everyone’s asleep

When the world around is so quiet you cannot hear a peep.

 

For in the quietude of slumber when the bats and fireflies thrive

is the time within the walls of his old house when memories come alive.

 

Memories of laughter and tears echo off the walls

Memories of his children and grandchildren echo down the halls.

 

Sometimes he stops to listen…sometimes…to different rooms he’s drawn

as he marvels at his old house…where his world has come and gone.

 

Today as he takes his final walk…

his children are grown…

his wife is gone

He packs up every memory…he knows it’s time for moving on.

 

He will take his memories with him but he knows some will linger in these walls

which he will gladly share with the new owners when another nighttime falls.

 

And he hopes as these new owners walk these halls when everyone’s asleep

when the world around is so quiet you cannot hear a peep

 

That he or she will stop and listen…smile…and be so kind

 

as to allow the new memories they are making to mix with those he leaves behind.


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THE SADDEST HOME OF ALL

What is it about an abandoned house…

neglected…empty…just sitting there?

What is it about its vulnerability that makes us stop and stare?

 

Perhaps what makes us pause a while…as across this land we roam

is that we realize it’s not just an abandoned house…

it is an abandoned home.

 

It’s sad to think this crumbling house has lost its soul…its heart.

And sad to think this one-time home has been left to fall apart

 

When we see it isolated…lonely…deserted…

it allows our imagination to flow

Since there’s no-one there to tell its story…

there’s so much we’ll never know

 

But we know there was a story here…

one we cannot disregard…

What happened to the family who lived inside it?

Did children play in its front yard?

 

Did joy and happiness fill its walls?
Was their laughter…love…and glee?
Did it see its share of pain and suffering?

Did it witness tragedy?

 

I imagine some homes with people in them 

can be crazy, insane or mad…

can be happy, joyful, supportive 

can be sorrowful or sad.

 

But as I stand here staring at this old house

with it’s falling roof and decaying walls

I have to wonder if an abandoned house

 

isn’t the saddest home of all.


What is it about an abandoned house…

neglected…empty…just sitting there?

What is it about its vulnerability that makes us stop and stare?

 

Perhaps what makes us pause a while…as across this land we roam

is that we realize it’s not just an abandoned house…

it is an abandoned home.

 

It’s sad to think this crumbling house has lost its soul…its heart.

And sad to think this one-time home has been left to fall apart

 

When we see it isolated…lonely…deserted…

it allows our imagination to flow

Since there’s no-one there to tell its story…

there’s so much we’ll never know

 

But we know there was a story here…

one we cannot disregard…

What happened to the family who lived inside it?

Did children play in its front yard?

 

Did joy and happiness fill its walls?
Was their laughter…love…and glee?
Did it see its share of pain and suffering?

Did it witness tragedy?

 

I imagine some homes with people in them 

can be crazy, insane or mad…

can be happy, joyful, supportive 

can be sorrowful or sad.

 

But as I stand here staring at this old house

with it’s falling roof and decaying walls

I have to wonder if an abandoned house

isn’t the saddest home of all.

What is it about an abandoned house…

neglected…empty…just sitting there?

What is it about its vulnerability that makes us stop and stare?

 

Perhaps what makes us pause a while…as across this land we roam

is that we realize it’s not just an abandoned house…

it is an abandoned home.

 

It’s sad to think this crumbling house has lost its soul…its heart.

And sad to think this one-time home has been left to fall apart

 

When we see it isolated…lonely…deserted…

it allows our imagination to flow

Since there’s no-one there to tell its story…

there’s so much we’ll never know

 

But we know there was a story here…

one we cannot disregard…

What happened to the family who lived inside it?

Did children play in its front yard?

 

Did joy and happiness fill its walls?
Was their laughter…love…and glee?
Did it see its share of pain and suffering?

Did it witness tragedy?

 

I imagine some homes with people in them 

can be crazy, insane or mad…

can be happy, joyful, supportive 

can be sorrowful or sad.

 

But as I stand here staring at this old house

with it’s falling roof and decaying walls

I have to wonder if an abandoned house

isn’t the saddest home of all.


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