A happy home

I was happy for a house today. Is that strange to feel all warm and fuzzy for an inanimate object? Either way, I felt it walking by on my way to the river and walking by on my way back from the river. Double the happiness.

This house is down the street from me and has been for sale for quite some time. It’s a large 3 story green and cream Pennsylvania home. Stained-glass windows let an array of colored light in from either side; the porch is a little worn and may need to be replaced; and the front door is surrounded in an odd mosaic – a mishmash of colored triangles of glass. It’s not something I would want around my front door per-say, but it gives the house a bit of character – like a whole lotta glitter on someone’s eye lid. It just wouldn’t work for me.

But I was happy because through the long winter that that house had been empty, no one really took care of it. The plants had died, the grass looked anemic and it just seemed stuck in a state of disrepair.

As I walked by this morning it was like seeing a little orphan girl in a new dress. Crisp black mulch was laid out in the flowers beds surrounded by lilies, geraniums and little tufts of green shrubs not yet blooming into the world. I hadn’t know the house had been sold, but I could tell immediately that finally someone cared, someone had decided to set up shop and put all their love into a home. And I felt glad for what was this poor little house, whose eaves now hung with pansies and soon-to-be budding plants. Inside, through the open window, I even saw a big brown ladder waiting for someone to start the next repairs.

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