If walls could talk, the walls of my home would speak volumes and I would gleefully listen to ever word it said. They have seen so many memorable events. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. The room my daughter took her first steps is the same room my Dad took his last breath. How could I not be emotional about this place?
The history of our home is interesting. This house is an old 1920’s mining house. My Dad said that when he was a teenager he use to apprentice as a plumber. This house was one of the first houses he ever plumbed. That was years before we actually moved into it. Momma & Daddy bought this house in 1964. The deed says they paid $500 for it. That is $500 cash. Unheard of in today’s economy. They had to move it from the location in Klondike to where it has sit for the past 48 years. They purchased the 17 acres of land it sits on, after it sold twice before for tax issues. We moved here in March of 1964. I remember the first morning when I walked on the porch, looking through the banisters to see red dirt and trees. My two year old mind did not understand where our neighbors were. Momma said I looked up and said, “where Margie?”
A lot of memories lay within these walls. This is my home and I don’t think I could ever leave. I’ve spent a lot of time looking out my windows at the columns on the front. I remember the day Daddy and Momma put those columns up. I felt like I lived in a mansion. To this day people call this the “old Cornelius place”. Years ago, Coal companies (yes, more than one) moved in to mine around us and under us. Yes, we have damage from that, but to explain the evil dealings that occurred when lawyers got involved, well pisses me off to speak of. But the fact remains; we have damages to this day that were never remedied. I want to one day fix this house back up, depending upon whether the latest batch of coal barons’ does not knock us off the map. They are slated to begin soon and their property borders ours.
Inspiration can sometimes come from out of the blue. I get enamored with pillars, posts and whitewashed wood. Oh how I love arches and anything Gothic revival. I thank you Universe for renewing my resolve to “the old Cornelius Place”. I will fight on to keep this place, be it neighbors, termites, coal companies or time. Bring it on, this is my home.
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