The House

I am very old. My foundation is crumbling, but I remember the first day like it was yesterday. I was brand new, a two story American Craftsman bungalow. I was built in the year 1884 and my owners moved in shortly after I was completed. Oh, the things they brought in! Brass bed frames went into the bedrooms. White curtains covered my windows and handmade rugs adorned my floors. The family had two small girls who lived upstairs and the parents' room was downstairs. The girls would play with their dolls on my balcony.

My porch was wide and deep to give relief from the summer heat. The neighbors would sometimes come over to pass the time of day with my people.The women would cook and bake for holidays and I sometimes imagine the aromas linger still. My yard seemed to be full of children those first few years. All sizes of children would climb over my railings. They would run up and down my steps. But the mother got sick and they had to move away.

I was sold to a man who had a mean wife and their children were not good to me. They wrote on my walls and scraped the furniture over my floors. They did not care that my beautiful moding was so carefully made. My windows were sometimes left open when it rained and my floors started warping. Luckily they moved on. I stayed empty for awhile. Oh, sure I had mice and a few birds for company but I wanted another good family. By now I had settled in and I had a few boards that creaked sometimes. My roof needed fixing and my beautiful porch was in need of repair.

After five whole years of being empty a man came inside me muttering a phrase I will never forget " bought this place for a song". The family that moved in was upset as to how I came to be in this condition. The people went to work on me, sanding my floors back to the shine I used to have, replacing broken windows and fixing my porch. Tomorrow I am to be "put up on blocks" so my foundation can be fixed, too.
I am very happy with my new people.