They say you cant go home again. I guess you cant, but I came as close as I have in 43 years this weekend. I got to go into my old home, which I had not been inside of since I left in tears at age 14. To say I was traumatized by our moving away is an understatement. I was taking photos as I rode by with my friends, Debbie Burris and Connie, and happened to catch the owner coming out of the driveway. I apologized and explained myself and I know he saw me fighting back the tears. Jimmy and Rebecca Blake, who bought the house not long after we left, have lived in our house ever since and raised their family there. I knew and remember their families very well, making you feel even better knowing they lived in our home. They were so very gracious to allow me to walk through every room and level of my precious home, which they have altered so very little, except to keep it looking up to date and so very beautiful. My dad would be so very proud that this house became a lifelong home for another family just the way he built it. It was all I could do to contain myself, and I prayed I wouldnt cry in their presence. Part of me wanted to stay in the tiny room that was mine in the upper corner of the house and just shut the door and have a good cry. Fortunately, I had my tears before and after. I cannot thank them enough. I had the pleasure of meeting their daughter, Jennifer Blake Hoyos and precious granddaughter, who were visiting. I felt an immediate connection. Maybe houses are much more than we give them credit for sometimes. There are so many stories, so many joys, memories, tears, and laughter that existed in that house and on that street. To get a few minutes to see it concretely once again is something that has been in my dreams since leaving. I just never had the courage to knock on the door again in the few times I have driven by. I cannot thank them enough. This is truly the house that built me. Thank God for Biscoe, North Carolina.
Posted on: Sun, 18 Jan 2015 22:43:05 +0000
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