Essence

My son and I share a passion for history. I must admit that as I write this, he knows more about it than I do. I look at history in terms of people, what drives them.
I love old houses. They have character. They are imprinted with the signature of the previous owners. I love the house that we live in. It is perfect for the four of us. My son, my two dogs and myself.

The house that we live in is quite ordinary. It has three bedrooms and two full baths and a half bath outside. I always wondered why there is a bathroom outside of the main house. One of my previous colleagues told me that it was probably constructed for the help who landscaped the yards. It does have a very big backyard. It took me two years to find this house and it was as perfect then as it is now. I had to change a couple of things here and there, but the yard is pretty much the same except for the addition of a water fountain. Oh except one of the trees fell off when hurricane Lily passed. On it's stump I placed a concrete statue of the buddha. This one is unusual because it is a smiling buddha and the hands are not folded in a meditation posture. It is as if the buddha is just enjoying the traffic of all kinds of birds taking baths in the fountain, the squirrels that tease the dogs and, one day, even a snake. All part of the dance of life in my backyard.

The couple who used to live here are retired and they did a terrific job of landscaping the property. Even now, when azaleas are in bloom, ours is the only home surrounded by magnificent colors in our neighborhood which also an older neighborhood. I can only remember one house that seems to change owners unusually frequently for as long as we have lived here. Most of the residents on the houses lining the street are either retired or working at home, so on any one weekday, the cars are parked on the carport as if it were a weekend.
The pine tree in the backyard is the tallest on the street. I can see it as long as I am on the same street. It serves as a beacon to me.

The flowering plants that continue to give us flowers were planted by the previous owners. I am always grateful for the generosity of spirit of the previous owners for leaving us this gift. I can tell they loved the land as I do now.

That is the history of this house for me. That is what I will remember when I either move away someday or die. I wonder how it was for the people who built it? I wonder how my son will remember it when he goes to college? He always thought it too small. No swimming pool. No tennis court. Not a place for big parties. For me, it is perfect. Small enough that I know where he and the dogs are at any one time even when I am at work on my computer.

I will always remember this house as the house where I found the most peace. When I pass on the ownership of this house to someone else, I wonder what they would change and what they would keep? What kind of signature will they leave? I hope that at least they will keep the bananas and the lemon tree and the dogwoods that I planted. Oh and I will leave them the buddha on the stump and the water fountain as my gift, just like the previous owners left calla lilies and african daisies and the enormous fig tree as their legacy to the future occupants of the land. For the land remains. The house may change, the occupants do change, but the land will always keep a record of the life that was there.

© 2007 by Melinda M. Sorensson