Theme Week 6: redo...No Place Like Home

There isn't much left of the house. Look how it sits alone here on the edge of this field, wrapped in shrubs and trees malnourished by the house's decay. The wood poles are still holding up the chimney, what's left of it. I used to wonder what kept those things from busting up. I've learned that it's pure faith. Those old boards are there for the duration. I still wouldn't walk under one of them, if I were you.

You have to watch your footing going across the porch. Best to pull those brambles back and let them close behind you. Worst you'll get from them is a swat on the butt after you've passed. Don't you love the way these old southern porches seemed to stretch so lazily? I can picture a swing over there though any sign of a hook for it has fallen with the roof. Really have to use your imagination...Squint your eyes. There, see it? Mind now. Best be getting off this old porch. No telling what's living under these boards.

Door just sort of hangs. Yeah, those are new hinges. I put them in last time I came. House like this needs a door. Besides, I camp in here sometimes. Like to give myself the impression of safety. Usually that's enough to afford sleep. You'll want to step where I step. Those holes were made first time I came in. Followed that lonely road down and couldn't resist opening it up. Had to be a treasure in a house like this. There was a painting where that graffiti is now. Bad painting. Least to these eyes. Beauty - beholder, though. Someone liked it well enough to come in and take it. Just through thoseFrenchh doors ( imagine them there - I do) and we can sit. Like you to see what brings me back every time I come. Most of the back wall is gone. Here. Sit right here. Now we'll wait.

Every time I come I leave a little something behind as a trade for all of the things that I take with me. Last time I left a bottle of red wine and a note. Before that a book of poetry I found at the yard sale right up the street and an emergency candle from the glovebox. See how that wallpaper is scratching itself from the wall? Like it's reaching across the room to get a better view. And see there, on that wall there initial carved into the door jam. FGB + EDB then those underneath: KHB NAB LEB. Figured that must be one of the families that grew up here. Touching that wood you can almost feel the pride in adding each one. Certainly has withstood the test of time. If we stay long enough we'll have to make up names for them. I give them new names everytime I come.There's more too. There's the cuts where he measured them. In that room off the main there's a hole cut out of the floorboard. Looks big enough for a shoebox. I imagine all sorts of things were hidden in there, slaves with their precious few treasures - something from home or from momma or poppa. Maybe some 10-year-old's box of baseball cards and bottle caps. We ought go have a look. But wait, before we go see, here's the reason I always come back...aside from the house. Watch. Just as the sun begins to disappear over the horizon. Yes. There it is...can you make it out? Ahhh...that's Beauty dancing in delight. Ever seen a reflection like that before? I didn't think so. Could just drink it in like a tall cool glass of sweet tea.

We best go now before dark settles in. Hard to make out the holes if you let the light get away from you. And we still have to figure out what we'll leave behind.