The Story of a House - Part 2

I look across the lane at the little white cottage. The house is dark.

Pat and John raised their son in this house. He's grown up now and long moved away. John worked for the gas company and retired. He walked his dog Duffy every day. He'd walk and smoke.

John and Duffy were a fixture in the neighborhood. Quick with a wave. My husband works on our house a lot. When he would be outside, John would stop by with Duffy and chat and smoke. He liked having someone to talk to.

John had a stroke. Went to assisted living. He died a few months ago.

Pat stayed in the house. But after John died, it just took her spirit. She got frail. She fell.

Last week, her grandaughter packed her up and moved her out. The car is still in the driveway. I guess to make it look like someone is there.

Mu husband said the other day, "It's sad that it's dark over there. I keep thinking I'll see Pat in her bathrobe going out to get the paper. To think, she and John lived a life in that house and now it's over. They're both gone."

We were quiet inside our thoughts.

That's what you do. You fix up your house and fill it with your stuff. You raise your child there. You play ball in the lane and swim in the lake. In the summer, you hear who's watching the Yankees on TV. We leave the windows open and skip the AC.

You hear laughter and sometimes fights. You hear the kids get fussed at and the bells ring for dinner. Crickets and cicadas chirp in the summer.

Screams of laughter in the winter as we sled down the hill in Mindy's backyard.

One day, we too will end up old and leaving our home. The house with so many memories. One spouse will outlive the other. Our son will move away. And just like that the house goes to someone else.

We stand next to each other and look at the little white cottage. Finally, I break the silence.

"It'll make a nice starter home for someone."