Sunday Stories - If That Old House Could Talk

 

I thought it would be fun to share a story from my book, Notes From a Writer's Heart, every Sunday and call them Sunday Stories.

I love this book. I know every author loves their own book, so I'm no exception, but these are stories that have a piece of my heart in every one. Whether I was writing about my own life or someone I only observed. The stories are personal on some level. 

In this first story...If That Old House Could Talk...I am referring to David's grandparent's house, where David spent most of his childhood and younger years, and where we lived for the first 4 years of our marriage and then again, for 13 years with our own two boys. It will always be known as "the farmhouse" and we will treasure the memories we had there.

I hope you enjoy the story.

If That Old House Could Talk

Sitting in the old farmhouse one morning, I began to wonder about all the stories that place could tell.  

After all, three generations have walked these wood floors and found shelter within these walls.

If that old house could talk, its stories would have many characters; 

some who lived there and some who merely came to stay a bit.

The kitchen would tell of the great cook who fed her family big meals that satisfied the senses 

and the smells that drifted through the windows from the farm fresh foods, 

grown right on this land.  

Standing beside the cook would be a teenage girl;

 taking her cue on how to feed a family and learning it well.

The screen doors would tell of the grandchildren that ran in and out, 

letting the door slam against the frame, over and over; 

the sounds becoming so familiar they were imprinted on the memories 

of one young man who would grow up and put pen to paper about it.

The windows, old and spotted now, would tell of a most beloved man 

whose world was outside in the white wood-framed garage that 

held his tools and other manly possessions, the garden where he tended his roses 

and the dirt drive that he walked down every evening, hand in hand with his grandson.

With his hat upon his head and a whistle as his trademark, 

he would take the hand of the young boy and they would make their 

daily trek down and back, talking of life, trains, and things they knew.

Flipping through the pages of time would find that young boy, 

having grown into a man with two sons of his own, 

caring for the little farmhouse the best he could.

With love and care, refreshing all that was old, 

the man made the house new again and preserved it for the next generation.

Though it would eventually be home to others, the man would treasure 

the memories of all he experienced there and every now and then, 

drive down the dirt drive just to see the place and play the memories in his head.

And if that old farmhouse could talk, I can only imagine the stories it would tell.

I hope you've enjoyed this episode of

Sunday Stories.

Until Next Time...

Blessings!

**As always, you can purchase the book by clicking on the picture on the side bar.**