if these walls could talk

When I was a young girl a favorite pastime was to walk with my mother through the old neighborhoods of town. We liked to find the older houses, many of them very run down and abandoned, and imagine how we would fix them up and make them beautiful, happy places again. There was a certain charm about them that is lost in the newer architecture, the high ceilings, porches, rooms off of rooms. There is a comfortable feel about them, stately and elegant but also peaceful and settled. The thought that they might be haunted only added to their appeal. We imagined ourselves to be the elegant ladies-of-the-house, picking bouquets of beautiful fragrant flowers from extensive gardens, serving lemonade to guests out on the front porch on a warm summer evening, cuddling with a love by a fire in the parlor on a cold winter night. All very romantic, but the truth of it is that restoring an old home is very expensive and hard work. Those that have done it sometimes wonder if it is worth it. It is quite easy for me to say, as one having never had that job, yes it is worth it. To me it is as though an old house is a living thing with a story to tell of cherished memories, the joys and heartache of life itself. Letting a house decay to ruin is almost like saying everything that happened there can be lost and forgotten.

There is a parallel to people. There is a certain charm about “antique” people, a comfortable feel about them, sometimes stately and elegant, but almost always peaceful and settled. Their very lives and histories are marvelous stories of joys and heartaches, challenges we can’t even imagine. Old people know who they are, they have learned how to do this complicated thing called “living” and how to do it well. They know how to recover from tragedy and overcome mistakes. They have much to offer, much to teach. But only to those who are willing to listen.