A Change and a Parting

Years and decades ago my mother visited the Amana Colonies in Iowa and brought home a book about the changes in store for the Amish/Mennonite type of culture. The story trajectory was not really my cup of tea, but the title resonated. A Change and a Parting. So many pivotal moments later, those words again appropriately define the selling of my old home. I've not shared photos of the  vandalism it had endured. Incredibly, after a jury trial and a guilty verdict, the boy charged who was found IN MY YARD received a fine judgement of merely $27. On advice of the sheriff I had paid him $230 before arrest via a friend for a lamp from my own home! So he netted $203! From me in cash! Plus all the other items he and his friends fenced. Eventually he did some time for selling meth. 

Here are a few photos of my home after the pillage!

You get the picture. 

So after the sale the new couple has stripped it back to its good bones. I've heard the new layout, and I've seen the big picture!

So... the house that my dad built for his only daughter sent me messages, and the old walls whispered that my darling was "just a little" frightened... but overall... my former sanctuary was happy not to crumble to the ground in the way of many abandoned dwellings. It seemed excited about its open concept, additional bedrooms, its mudroom and new exits.

My spirit felt quite a jolt to learn that all the interior wood my dad had lovingly measured twice, cut once, stained, sanded, varnished---repeat... all was burned. The old baby grand piano met that same fate I think. I told them with panache what was there was dead to me. After all, I told the couple, we had flitted away our opportunity to act/salvage/make a decision/ do something even if it was wrong for nearly 20 years...  They saved me a few treasures, photos, a quilt... 

So... the  transfer is complete, and I always plan to be positive and happy for my sweet, helpful, kind, good to me neighbors who bought the place. They also bought my grandfather's barn, which was gone, gone, gone .. except.... was it? isn't it strange how places still stand, flags still wave, kittens and little boys still roll in the yard... ?

The palaces constructed within our memory bear no trace of rust or death or renovation. 

Possibly... we can hold our breath... a happier post is coming! "We live in hope and die in despair,"  said my little gramma... indeed it seems so. Hugs!