The House - 1

The house stood there on the hill just as it always had. That is since it was built, in 1869.

My great great grandfather had built it when he was 31 years old. He had built it for his wife who he wasn’t married to yet, but he wouldn’t marry her until he had a suitable house. His idea of a suitable house was a rather large expensive one, which he worked hard to save up for and which all his energies went into the building of. This is why he was already 31 years old and still not married. But Louise had waited patiently, which was rather amazing since she had many anxious suitors and her parents not really sure of my great great grandfathers intentions though he had stated it very clearly, tried to marry their daughter off several times. However she was sure that great great grandfather was the only one for her and had promised to wait for him to the end of time if need be. And wait she did. He had bought the property near her parents home. It was 50 acres of wooded hillside with a pond at the bottom fed by a small creek. He had taken Louise there and they had walked all over it sharing ideas and dreams for their house and future family. The next day he left for the big city. He wrote letters. Lots of short ones, and gave a return address. She wrote long letters in return and made lots of visits to the property. He had been 21 when he left and she had been 17. Her parents thought she would get over it in time and fall in love with one of the charming young suitors. On the contrary the property she said was a sign of his promise and she believed him. After a few years he began to send her pictures of homes. She wrote back her comments about this one and that. The years passed and she turned 27. Her sisters had all married and called her Auntie Spinster. Then he came home. He took her to their property and showed her the plans. Soon he had a crew of workers building away. He paid attention to quality, detail and structure. She made plans for the wedding. Her parents were all too glad that she was finally going to marry. She had been teaching at the village school and this was truly a big affair with the children. By now she had many nieces and nephews and great great grandpas family was also a large one. The wedding was to be one of great importance. Great great grandpa had learned banking and investment in the big city and now he set up his own bank in the village.

When the house was finished and enough furniture bought so that they were comfortable the couple were married and it was 1869.

My Aunt Melinda told me this. She said it was my heritage. So I’m writing it down to keep it for all the generations to come. There is a large painting of my great great grandparents, Theodore and Louise. It is hanging over the mantle in the great room.

I hadn’t seen the house for years. Some things had changed and it appeared smaller than I remembered it. The shrubs had grown and were now tall bushes. I remember jumping over them in a game we used to play. They were much too tall for that now. Some of the flower beds were gone too and lawn took their place. Some undergrowth had surrounded the trees close to the house. Even the house itself seemed changed. The walls no longer held the boldness they once had but seemed friendlier, gentler. The gate at the end of the long drive was new. Even the maples which had lined the long drive had been replaced with saplings. It was a pretty sight but nothing like the majestic tunnel through which we had ridden our bikes on many a summer vacation to visit Grandma and Grandpa. Yet their was still something strangely magical about the place. I hesitated at the gate, taking a good look at everything. The edge of the property stopped just a few yards from the driveway now. The orchards had all been sold off to residences. But the main grounds remained. The barn was gone and the stables had been turned into a double car garage. But for all the changes I saw, one feeling surrounded me and that was comfort. Like the comfortable feeling of being home after a long trip. You’ve been camping or taken a road trip somewhere and you come home and it is so comforting to hear the crunch of the tires on your own driveway stones. Even if your drive is paved it still sounds and feels different than all the roads in the world. I’ve always felt that. Even if I were asleep and we pulled into our own drive. It sounded like home. I would always wake up right as we pulled into our driveway. You can travel the world, far and wide and it all feels the same, but the minute you pull into your own driveway you can tell. It was like that for me now. I was still in the car. I had pulled into the driveway and stopped before this big iron gate. Everything was so changed but I felt as though I were home. I got out of the car and walked toward the gate. Even though I hadn’t seen this gate before, opening it felt natural and good. I got back in my car and drove slowly down the drive. I was home.

Written by Elizabeth Williams, fiction, The House.  The first part in a series. 8/11/14

To read the next chapters: The House 2, The House 3, The House 4, The House 5, The House 6, The House 7, The House 8