My very first best friend ever grew up in this house. I first spent the night here at age 5. I went up to Brandon at the beginning of Kindergarten and asked "Do you want to be my best friend?" and we were thick as thieves after that!
Mine was the first family to live in our little house, it was all new in the 70s. But this one was my first real taste of historic architecture and it made a huge and lasting impression on me.
It is now at the end of its long decagenarian life. It had two stories and seven fireplaces, high ceilings, single pane windows, beveled mirrors, glass door knobs, Victorian shingles, ten inch wide pine planks, and a vibe and smell all its own. It was scary at night yet comforting all the same. The floors creaked, it had the aura of multiple cats all about it and was chocked full of beautiful antique things that also left me with a lifelong appreciation of them.
I was about this age when I first came here:
I made a pilgrimage to the house recently and walked all around, where we used to play in the dark sandy soil and thick cedars, in the shade and in the sun, racing her pony and her Arabian all around their circular driveway. Also my first taste of living with horses in your own backyard; lifelong impression number 3.
I am working on going with the flow, resistance is pain and this hollowed ground is a magical happy place. I feel lucky to have had the chance to go say goodbye to the old stomping grounds. I will hold it like a historic landmark in my hear, intact forever.
I had a dream about the old house across the street from my own family home, years and years after it was torn down, years and years after I had last been inside. It was a powerful, lucid dream in which I was physically walking, eyes shut, through the psychic blueprint of the Walker's house, every single detail faithfully rendered by my mind and I knew if I opened my eyes it would vanish.
I know this one will live on in the brain of Dusti, but I wouldn't mind going for a few more pictures while it is still in this world. It's startlingly beautiful in it's dilapidated state.
That ground will always remain haunted by it, this house is its own ghost.
