When the elderly woman who lived down the hill from my grandmother’s old house passed away a couple of years ago, I feared the worst. The house, a lovely old cottage style, with a big front porch and a barn on the side, was in complete disrepair. The yard was overgrown, screens were torn, and a good wind could have easily blown the barn down. As with what has happened to so many of the older homes in my home town, I figured that whoever ended up with this house would level it, and it would be gone forever.
After many months on the market, the sold sign appeared along with several dumpsters. First the barn came down. Then the beautiful front porch was taken off. I could see that walls had been torn down inside, and each time I passed by I held my breath, believing the house would have disappeared. But then, little by little, the house came back to life. The yard was tended. The windows reflected repairs and renovations going on inside, And today when I passed by, a new front porch stood out front, it’s fresh white railings looking crisp and welcoming. I smiled knowing this little cottage is going to stand proud, and hold the memories she keeps for years to come.