Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The Scary House
Just down the road is where this house resides. I drive by every day and I always slow down to stare. Every time. It feels like the house is speaking to me.
I have a lot of questions.
Why is it still standing?
Who lived there?
Who stopped loving this place?
It intrigues me because in my heart, I know that this place was once someone's home. Their refuge. Their shelter from every storm that passed through. And for some reason, it's still standing. Obviously, it's hanging on by a thread. But, it's still there. Somehow, through it all, this place has yet to crumble completely.
There are remnants of once was---chipping paint, broken windows, tattered curtains flapping in the breeze. I stare a little closer each time, eternally wondering if I'll catch something I missed the last time I drove by.
I want to know who lived there. I yearn to hear the story of the life this house and its occupants once I had. I am practically begging to know why it has never been destroyed.
My husband and I call it "The Scary House" because it really is eerie. It's a palpable feeling. There is just something frightening about an abandoned structure--especially a home. A place that was once loved and cared for is now empty, pathetic and destroyed. I find myself wondering how it happened. At what point did someone begin forgetting about this place and just decide to let it go?
I really don't know the answers to my burning questions, but I sort of enjoy that it remains a mystery. Logic tells me that it's probably as simple as it was more expensive to knock the house down than it was to let it rot. In my mind, it is much more romantic and mysterious to wonder what once was than to discover the actual truth.
But Scary House still picks at that little place in me that loves its battered exterior and sad, drooping state of affairs--that part of myself that loves the imperfections. It's old and from what I can tell, all but forgotten. I sometimes think about what it might have looked like 100 years ago when it wasn't delapidated.
I secretly hope it was as beautiful and romantic as I envisioned.