She was built in 1911. A cradle for someone’s hopes and dreams.
A house that became a home, that now embraces us.
She holds our dreams and echoes with the sounds of little feet.
She is not grand or ostentatious; she has a quiet, almost demure beauty.
She possesses the warmth and quirkiness that only an older home can have.
A home, whose walls have absorbed the personalities of those who came before.
Absorbed their memories, their happiness and resonates with their love.
I’m not speaking of ghosts, but our homes are
where we express ourselves,creatively, lovingly and uniquely and she exudes that.
She is a happy house, a blessed house and a quirky house.
She was a package deal, but just as he was perfect for me,
she shows herself daily as a perfect fit.
She has a name. Her name is Hope.