I Wonder What She Would Say?

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Walking  this morning over a course I have taken many times before, I noticed amid ranch and two-story houses, a cream-city brick house that was startlingly out of place.  Sitting high on a hill, overlooking a now, house-dense neighborhood, was a quiet house of yesteryear. She seemed to be in solitary, sleepy repose as the world moved quickly on.  She seemed content to be the matron of the neighborhood, content to let the younger generation, the grander and more fashionable homes, share her once barren hills.

But, what if this house could tell me her story, what would she say?  What would she have seen over the years? Did she feel sadness or joy as men broke ground for newer construction?  Did she smile when those new homes were filled with young families whose children’s laughter filled the air? Did she whisper with the wind at their funny antics?  Did she invite those playmates in during a stormy day? Did she protectively watch as they played on the tire swing that hung from the maple tree out front? Did she listen to them read their stories on the wicker chair on the front  porch? Did she wonder where the years flew as the saplings grew tall and strong and broad? Did she cry as the grown-up boys marched proudly off to war? Did her windows wear a blue- or gold-starred service flag? Did the Stars and Stripes decorate her front porch rail in anticipation of their homecoming?  Did she mourn the flag-blanketed coffin?

Is she now content, old and fading?  Content with her crackling paint and crumbling mortar? Content with her memories?  Content with the trees surrounding her? What if this house could tell me her story?  I wonder what she would say?

 

©B. Donaldson, 2018. All rights reserved

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About bjdonaldson

I think of myself as a Renaissance woman with a variety of passions. If you visited me, you might find me hanging out with my husband and children. Our Golden Retriever would be lovingly near. I am a Literacy Coach/Reading Specialist at an elementary school where I provide professional development and coaching to teachers. Formerly, I was a Reading Recovery teacher, an interventionist, and a middle and elementary classroom teacher. Getting up in the morning is not hard; I still love making a difference in the lives of children and teachers.

4 responses »

    • After I was done writing this, it reminded me of the 1943 Caldecott winner, The Little House. Virginia Lee Burton did a fantastic job…it always bring tears to my eyes when I read it. Thanks for the comment.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. What a sweet post. I think I would make the house the little old lady in the neighborhood who brought cookies to all the young families and giggled at the noise they made. She would be the grandma for all those who didn’t have grandparents living nearby. I love all your thoughtful questions.

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  2. I love going for walks and noticing things as I go along, but I don’t think I’ve ever personified a house on my walks. I like how you imagined the life of the house and all the things it might have seen and done over the years. I wonder what will become of that house that seems so out of place among the ranch style houses…

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