Old Houses - Blog Posts

Sticks and Stones

We fulfill our destiny in this life as the events dictate. We wake up and go to sleep every day. We sit by the fire in the winter holding deep conversations with those we love and cherish. We consume the prepared food at the table in the corner. We cook,clean and even breathe under the watchful eyes of the home.

Under the roof and cuddled in the arms of the walls around us. The home, the house, the place we go when we need the gift of love.

Sticks and stones with flesh and bones... Home... dennis

  Home...

The smell of eggs frying on the stove still linger in your mind as you walk through the place you called home. Until a few minutes ago, this home was yours and the animals in the fields were your friends.

   The creek out back gave this world a reason for existence. The vegetables grew and the chickens laid eggs. The days were long, but the tired was beautiful. 

  Home is the area where the kids played and grew. Season after season, they prospered. Not prosper like the city folk, but like the country folk. Money was scarce, but happiness was abundant. Then more people started to move in across the valley and to chase their own version of this small perfect dream.

   Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell that little stream up the road a bit to increase its flow for those downstream. The stream flowed less and less. The water was becoming brackish.

   The man packed the old truck with the few belongings he owned. The two kids in the seat next to him and a photo of his wife’s grave next to the now dead tree, taped to the dashboard…

    life, interrupted…dennis

Old houses in Antwerp

Old farmhouse

Tom Mannion