At the top of the hill where the smell of cold damp New England Winter meets the smell of the forest, sits a house only several houses down and across the road from my own place. Since moving here, I have found myself walking to visit it every so often. It is just bones now, the remnants of lives once lived here haunt the place… The bushes are over grown and if you look through the windows, you see a complete gut job. But still there is something about the place. It has stood, clearly for a very long time braving all the worst that the New England weather has to throw at it. It has stood strong against rain, snow and wind, and captured inside the laughter of a once warm cozy hearth still echoes in the empty dilapidated rooms. For some inexplicable reason I find myself returning again and again to this mysterious wonder.
This place has a story it wants to tell…. But sadly, it doesn’t speak in a language that I can understand, yet the mystery of the place lives on. How did it come to be in such a state? When and why has it been abandoned? Does it miss those days when someone lived within it? Is it lonely? What story would it tell if the walls and floorboards could speak? I would so very much like to venture in. And yet, the closest I come is to sneak up, meaning no harm, to look through the windows at the old wall paper still on the walls and at the floors that have decayed to an unbelievably frightful condition, and yet, in a state of wreckage it is a beautiful mystery. One that consumes me every time I drive by. Every time I go for a walk. It is a small town’s memory now. Not fit for habitation. And yet, year in and year out it continues on…. It isn’t just the mystery of the place I love. It is the strength of character it takes to keep standing in the face of abandonment through every storm…. What I wouldn’t give to go in and photograph inside, because one day it will fall. Everything falls. But that kind of strength, beauty, and mystery should never be forgot. The lives lived the history made should never be lost……..
I don’t know who this house belongs to. I don’t know if they plan to bring it back to it’s former glory or if it will be allowed to collapse when it gets to weary to continue facing the New England storms and winters. All I know, is this mystery seems almost like a part of my new home. And how I would love to solve it.