Even if You Don’t Know What it Means… What’s it Worth to You?

There is a house down the road so large and old that it is out of place in modern day. It was once a very grandiose mansion sitting atop a cliff and overlooking the ocean, with shiny black and gold accents, a private winding drive, and fantastic decks and balconies for old-fashioned entertaining. The grounds were at one time so lush and green that they adorned the house like jewels and protected it like warriors.

It seemed I had not really seen the house before – not like this anyway – and suddenly, I needed to go inside.

I found the interior of this forgotten giant to be almost completely empty, except for bits of rubbish on the floor and imprints of feelings of those who used to live here. It was deteriorating massively too, as if the structure was coming apart at the seams, worn from decades of neglect rather than abuse. But there was something very solid about it as well, made of an old wood that only gets more stubborn and dense with time.

There were obvious remnants of the previous owners still within, like deep markings on the wall where a prized antique book had once been showcased. And insignificant portions of things they’d left behind in their hurriedness to vacate.

It seemed only time itself was wearing this beauty down... along with perhaps the loneliness of disregard.

I then rounded the corner and found a large crevice leading to the basement downstairs. It was more like an opening to a dungeon with a width at least twice that of a normal residential doorway. All I could see upon looking in was pitch black, and I was considering going down to investigate when an iron gate swung around, sealing the entrance.

It was then that I came upon the children’s rooms - first the boy's, in which only peeling paint from the walls was left… and then the little girl's. Hers was startlingly different from the rest. It still held all her belongings intact, as if she was currently living there; neat, organized and as colorful as a rainbow.

But there was something else odd about this room. It, too, was ‘stuck’ in time like the rest of the house. But it had its own time and dimension that either freed it from past tragedy or kept it in an oblivious state of denial.

While I felt some hope being in this room and sensed the vibrancy of full-blown life, I also wanted to wrap my arms around the house and help mend it from within.

My initial fears, however, were that its grief was simply too great and heavy for me.

But unable to ignore it and having some mysterious personal connection to it, I went to seek reinforcements anyway. And I soon returned with the strength of collective compassion. It was an uphill battle, but the cause was well worth it; our conviction alone beginning to unseal the fate that others assumed absolute.

Most importantly, the house knew it was loved once again.

[p.s. photo origins unknown]