Today, I noticed that a lone house, across from where I grocery shop, had things in the yard as if there was a Yard Sale. It was a Monday afternoon, so it seemed like a strange time. I have always loved this house. Its a two story red brick home, that seemed like it wasnt occupied. I was mistaken.I parked the car, and walked up to take a peek. A tiny old lady was sitting on a chair. She reminded me of my Grandma; itty bitty, poufy wig, that casual way of sitting that hides the fact that she seemed frail. I asked her if it was a yard sale. She said that it wasnt. It was all for free. I was amazed. There were stacks of books that I wanted to dive into, but I felt awkward. I asked if it was her home, and she said it was. I told her that I always thought it was beautiful and grand. She said that she and her husband built it themselves. They lived in the garage for five years, while they built it. She added that they were both school teachers, so thats why they chose red brick. I thanked her for her story, and wished her well.
Her family members encouraged me to take the books, and I did. Im going to pour through each one, when I have time.
The whole scenario makes me sad. Getting to the age where you are no longer in control, and you are moved out of the place that you built with your spouse, and put a lot of love into it. Getting old is wonderful but it stinks at the same time. Good luck, sweet tiny lady. Thank you for your story.
