A Lonely House
We walk past the yellow house almost every day on our way to school. It is a nice house, with a two car garage with a flag pole on the side and a giant evergreen tree in the front yard and a wood trellis over the gate leading to the back yard.
One morning several months ago, a realtor sign appeared in front of the house with a "Coming Soon!" tag on top. The lawn was mowed and the trim painted, and an American Flag waved to the world from its perch next to the garage. A couple weeks later, the "Coming Soon" tag disappeared and a pink "vacant" notice appeared on the mail box. Signs appeared on the storm door asking visitors to remove their shoes so as not to track dirt on the brand new carpets. A lock box was on the storm door's handle, and the house seemed to be excitedly anticipating its new occupants, whoever they may be.
After a few weeks, an "Under Contract" tag appeared on the realtor's sign, and I was happy for the little house. A day or two later, a truck appeared in the driveway and men were seen passing in and out of the open garage. I imagined they were inspecting the house before the new owners moved in. A few days later, the "Under Contract" sign had vanished and the disappointed house remained empty.
Winter snows set in, but there was no one to shovel the driveway or the sidewalks in front of the house. Winds battered the flag, and one day it's tattered remains pulled free of its pole and landed, crumpled, in the yellow grass of the lawn. Occasionally tire tracks in the snow revealed that there was still some interest in the house as realtors continued to show it to interested buyers.
One day as I passed on the way to school, a man stood in the driveway talking loudly into his cell phone. "Edna," he said, (Edna Gordon was the name on the realtor sign) "I'm here at the house right now and the lock box is gone. There's no sign of it!" Glancing at the front door, I noticed the storm door's handle was dangling and the lock box had vanished. A few days later, a locksmith's van was parked in the driveway when we passed by. No lock box re appeared on the front door; I think they must have found a less obvious way to provide the key to prospective buyers.
Time continued, and there were fewer signs of people visiting the house. The grass grew long and unkempt. The trellis began to list gently to one side. The flag disappeared completely, leaving its pole empty, just a long twig growing out of the side of the house next to the garage.
The last few days, there has been a white truck frequently parked in the driveway with "Fire and Flood Restoration" printed on the side. I wonder if water pipes froze and burst during the winter. I feel sorry for the poor house, once so tidy and proud, and now emanating a feeling of neglect.
Curious, I looked up the listing online this morning and learned that according to the listing the house is again under contract. I hope this one works out. The poor house needs someone to live in it, to care for it, to make it feel loved.
One morning several months ago, a realtor sign appeared in front of the house with a "Coming Soon!" tag on top. The lawn was mowed and the trim painted, and an American Flag waved to the world from its perch next to the garage. A couple weeks later, the "Coming Soon" tag disappeared and a pink "vacant" notice appeared on the mail box. Signs appeared on the storm door asking visitors to remove their shoes so as not to track dirt on the brand new carpets. A lock box was on the storm door's handle, and the house seemed to be excitedly anticipating its new occupants, whoever they may be.
After a few weeks, an "Under Contract" tag appeared on the realtor's sign, and I was happy for the little house. A day or two later, a truck appeared in the driveway and men were seen passing in and out of the open garage. I imagined they were inspecting the house before the new owners moved in. A few days later, the "Under Contract" sign had vanished and the disappointed house remained empty.
Winter snows set in, but there was no one to shovel the driveway or the sidewalks in front of the house. Winds battered the flag, and one day it's tattered remains pulled free of its pole and landed, crumpled, in the yellow grass of the lawn. Occasionally tire tracks in the snow revealed that there was still some interest in the house as realtors continued to show it to interested buyers.
One day as I passed on the way to school, a man stood in the driveway talking loudly into his cell phone. "Edna," he said, (Edna Gordon was the name on the realtor sign) "I'm here at the house right now and the lock box is gone. There's no sign of it!" Glancing at the front door, I noticed the storm door's handle was dangling and the lock box had vanished. A few days later, a locksmith's van was parked in the driveway when we passed by. No lock box re appeared on the front door; I think they must have found a less obvious way to provide the key to prospective buyers.
Time continued, and there were fewer signs of people visiting the house. The grass grew long and unkempt. The trellis began to list gently to one side. The flag disappeared completely, leaving its pole empty, just a long twig growing out of the side of the house next to the garage.
The last few days, there has been a white truck frequently parked in the driveway with "Fire and Flood Restoration" printed on the side. I wonder if water pipes froze and burst during the winter. I feel sorry for the poor house, once so tidy and proud, and now emanating a feeling of neglect.
Curious, I looked up the listing online this morning and learned that according to the listing the house is again under contract. I hope this one works out. The poor house needs someone to live in it, to care for it, to make it feel loved.
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