….but never our hearts.
This was my home until I was 23. My mom continued to live here for many years after that.
Now I live about 15 miles away. Life doesn’t take me by the house too often, and when it does, I usually just glance as I pass by. But there are memories that even a quick glimpse can bring to mind.
I’m reminded of the nights I fell asleep to the sound of rain on that tin roof. And of windy days and nights, listening to the rattle of the tin. Many times, we wondered if the wind was going to tear off the roof.
The house faces the east, and I remember the morning sun shining on the front porch. As a child, I’d play out there during warm weather. There was always an old wooden swing on the far left side of the porch. Mom and my sisters used to swing me to sleep when I was a baby.
I remember my sisters and their families visiting on Sunday afternoons, and when the weather permitted, we’d all sit out in the front yard. No air conditioning then! We had to sit under a shade tree to cool off in the summer.
Several families have lived in this house since the time my mom lived here. The most recent family moved out a few weeks ago. I hope someone moves in soon, so it won’t fall into disrepair.
I guess there’s something about it that makes it still feel just a tiny bit like home.