So as I've been tearing down wallpaper, changing out doorknobs & pulling down paneling I haven't been able to help but imagine the lives that were once led in this old house of ours.
Built in 1950, the house was essentially in the same family until us. The daughter of the people who built it bought it along side her husband in 1967. For 42 years they held the title to this house & raised 6 children.
As I enjoy my morning coffee in a very quiet dining room, I imagine those six kids bustling about getting ready for school as their mother chases them to hurry in the morning.
As I tore down the bathroom wallpaper I thought about the person who picked it out, loved it & was excited for it to be completed. I imagined it to be the mother whose name was Joanne. I see her applying the wallpaper during the day when she had the entire house to herself and proud of her work. I also think about how excited she must have been so many years earlier when they gutted the kitchen and added the dining room. The kitchen is state of the art 1971: double oven, countertop range & a dishwasher all in sleek almond. Oh, and all the walls are wood paneling. Groovy.
Sometimes I think about the kids, like when I was painting one of the bedrooms as found traces of pink paint everywhere. I envisioned one of the daughters excited to have her own room to decorate as she wished (which included a super sweet wall of mirrored tiles) and to give her privacy.
Other times I think about Dwaine, the dad & husband. The six hooks that are painstakingly placed at each entrance as well as the 6 outlet power cord that is hardwired into the bathroom wall. And then there's the GIANT garage that has all sorts of intriguing shelves, hooks and capped off outlets.
I grew up in one house, a house which my mother still lives in. The houses each of my parents grew up in are mere blocks away from our house and relatives still live in both of them. I get it, the vibe of the house, and it seems that we are in sync with it.