Everyone needs an Old House...

Old Houses are creepy. Usually they are dark, they smell a little musty, and crowded with shadows of things you can't really see. The only light comes from an open door, or a window that may be partially covered with plywood to keep out the weather. Flash light beams bounce off dust motes when you walk through.

Old Houses make you go quiet, like you might disturb something you can't see. Even when you are there, looking for something, your voice is quieter. You move things gingerly, like something might move wrong or break. There is no hum of electricity in an Old House. Just the sound of the breeze through cracked panes of glass. Just the sound of a car going past on the gravel road. Just quiet.

Old Houses are handy. They are filled with treasures from times past. Things like Car manuals and trophies. Tarps and Tools and 'good pieces of wood'. Because when you get an Old House, you don't clean it out. You just keep putting new things in to keep safe. You forget about things you've put in there because they are a bit dated or not needed at the time. Old Houses keep your things safe from people and the weather, gently coating them in dust until they are no longer recognizable. Then when you sift through, you find Treasures you never knew you needed.

Old Houses are fascinating. Just to see how walls are priced together. How the wall paper is thick, covering wood slats, no drywall. How the cabinets inside are taller than the door frames, and wondering if they were actually made inside the house after it was built. Looking at the faded colours on the walls, lightly coated in dust and years, as you tuck another thing away...because one day you might need it.

Grampa's Old House was all of these things...and so much more. The Old House is where Christmas was stored every year, set aside until the next season rolled around. Sometimes a few seasons, as trends and tastes and needs changed, waiting to be rediscovered by someone new. Same with clothes or shoes or even tools. The Old House is where you put things 'in case you need them someday'. Things like tarps and hose and wire. Things like old molding or plywood. And when you had a project or an idea, Grampa would take you up there and help you search through things to see if he had what you needed. Then he would help you fix it...

The Old House was where the kids all learned to love horses. To ride. To work. They fed horses, brushed them, watered them and then fixed fence. They rode bareback and learned to saddle them. They helped Grampa fix the sheds and put in irrigation. They laughed and had fun. And they liked going there because of that...

                                                 

I will admit, I had a love hate relationship with that Old House. It was always kind of fun to go up with Craig when we had an idea and he would help us find something to make it happen. A piece of wood, a length of hose. Something. And I loved taking the kids up there to see the horses. It was a highlight when we would come up from California. They loved it. But I always found it a bit creepy. Too many horror flicks running through my mind when we would go up there. Or maybe it was the night before we were married, we were getting some lattice from inside, and Dustin left me alone in there, at night, with just a flashlight and then scared me as I was coming out the front door. Just not the same after that.

But the Old House was always handy. Always available...until now. Sherry was able to sell the land, even though its been listed off and on for quite a while, it finally sold. And now the Old House needed to be cleaned out.

It has been a physically, mentally and emotionally exhausting month. Trying to systematically sort through things that we may need or may not, trying to decide what's important to keep, what can we sell to help Sherry, and what is just not worth it. Trying to shuffle through years of things that were mostly forgotten is hard. Because you put them at the Old House because you might need them one day, but now we don't have a spot to store them for one day.

It was hard, because it was fast. We had to get it done, so away we plugged. But it was also good. There was a lot to do, and it felt cathartic in a way. Sifting through things, finding something and not knowing what it was and wondering why we had it. Laughing about how Craig probably kept it for such and such or because it was ' a really good piece of wood'. Having memories wash over you every time you walked through the door, and feeling weird as time past and there was less and less in there every time. Wondering if you are making the right decisions about things, and trying to get it all done in a few weeks.

I am so proud of my husband. We are pretty good procrastinators, but he was very determined that this was going to get done. And when he does that, there's not much stopping him. He worked on all his days off, and even after work most days. Sending pictures to his family, trying to determine what was what and what we should do with it. Sometimes we would just sit and look around and wonder how we were going to do it, but it got there.

I am proud of Sherry too. It's not easy to let a part of your past go. It's not easy to sift through possessions and try and figure out what you might need. It's really hard to do it in a place that is so full of memories. But she did it. And I think that's amazing. She has shown us all what true strength is.

I am going to miss the Old House. I am going to be totally weirded out driving past and seeing something new there. It may even be awhile before I can go down that road. But I am glad for it. I am glad for what it was and what it gave me and my family. I am glad for the memories we had there. I am so grateful we had an Old House...