They tore my house down
We've lived here for almost 5 years and out my kitchen window, over the fence and across the little country highway is an old clapboard house. It is white, with some blue trim. One story with a cute little front porch. It is probably about 40-50 yrs old and in some ways is worse for the wear. Growing up, when the neighborhood that I live in was just a field, that little house was there. It is the first thing you saw when you drove into Roanoke and summed up the whole town: a little old, sturdy, comfortable and simple.
At first, I felt like a voyer because I would stand at the sink washing dishes, bathing babies, making dinner, talking on the phone and watch the simple, old people who lived there. Younger people would come to visit. Children would play in the side yard. They were obviously at or past retirement age, but they would go to "work" everyday. Maybe it wasn't work, maybe they volunteered somewhere or had errands to run and people to visit, but I came to know their routines. I watched out for them. There is a circle drive in front of their house and everytime someone pulled off the highway to turn around, I would go on alert. I never met them but they were my friends. I often thought of going over and introducing myself, but I didn't want them to think of me as the wierd woman who watched them - so I didn't.
Then, we came home from a holiday weekend and they had moved out. Gone, without letting me know first. I don't know the circumstances. The house stood empty for almost a year and then a young lady moved in with her dogs. She worked for the vet in town and rescued abandoned dogs. I met her a couple times and when her dogs would get out, I'd call her and let her know. She stayed for about 4-5 months and was gone in the blink of an eye too.
And then the house stood empty. It has been about 18 months. The yard has grown up and the house looks sad and abandoned.
I was doing my dishes when the workers came. They went in for about 10 minutes. When they came out some left and others set to work. It has been 20 minutes and the roof is halfway off. The front door is gone as is the front porch. A few people in the neighborhood have commented to me about the ugly house behind me. They don't know it like I do and I am going to miss it.
Epilogue: It has been 2 months now that the house has been gone. All that is left are some metal posts, the driveway and weeds. Nothing has replaced it. I have talked with the city manager and there aren't any plans to put anything there, at least in the near future. I guess someone just wanted it down. I still feel sad when I raise my blind in the morning even though I am getting used to it being gone. The bright spot is that I have come to a realization. Tonight while making dinner, I discovered that if I lower the blind the house is still there. Isn't that an eternal truth? The things that we care about in our hearts are always there, even if we can't see them with our eyes.
At first, I felt like a voyer because I would stand at the sink washing dishes, bathing babies, making dinner, talking on the phone and watch the simple, old people who lived there. Younger people would come to visit. Children would play in the side yard. They were obviously at or past retirement age, but they would go to "work" everyday. Maybe it wasn't work, maybe they volunteered somewhere or had errands to run and people to visit, but I came to know their routines. I watched out for them. There is a circle drive in front of their house and everytime someone pulled off the highway to turn around, I would go on alert. I never met them but they were my friends. I often thought of going over and introducing myself, but I didn't want them to think of me as the wierd woman who watched them - so I didn't.
Then, we came home from a holiday weekend and they had moved out. Gone, without letting me know first. I don't know the circumstances. The house stood empty for almost a year and then a young lady moved in with her dogs. She worked for the vet in town and rescued abandoned dogs. I met her a couple times and when her dogs would get out, I'd call her and let her know. She stayed for about 4-5 months and was gone in the blink of an eye too.
And then the house stood empty. It has been about 18 months. The yard has grown up and the house looks sad and abandoned.
I was doing my dishes when the workers came. They went in for about 10 minutes. When they came out some left and others set to work. It has been 20 minutes and the roof is halfway off. The front door is gone as is the front porch. A few people in the neighborhood have commented to me about the ugly house behind me. They don't know it like I do and I am going to miss it.
Epilogue: It has been 2 months now that the house has been gone. All that is left are some metal posts, the driveway and weeds. Nothing has replaced it. I have talked with the city manager and there aren't any plans to put anything there, at least in the near future. I guess someone just wanted it down. I still feel sad when I raise my blind in the morning even though I am getting used to it being gone. The bright spot is that I have come to a realization. Tonight while making dinner, I discovered that if I lower the blind the house is still there. Isn't that an eternal truth? The things that we care about in our hearts are always there, even if we can't see them with our eyes.