It was morning and I was happily shifting through color swatches and fabric samples. The rooms in the house were dark, unusually so. The first thing I needed to do was bring light in.
A friend had given us a clawfoot sofa that needed to be reupholstered. I had found some fabric from a Kaufman Studio set at a store in Jackson Heights. It was a beautiful deep navy fabric with plush velvet accents, rich in texture and depth. It would look perfect on the couch and connected to the 1840 history of the house.
I looked around again and even with all of the wide windows, the house had, it really needed painting, light. I looked at different color swatches, but decided maybe the walls just needed to be white.
There was a heaviness to the house, especially in the kitchen and when I passed the little hallway by the dining room. Those two areas felt darker.
I started to leave sage bowls on the dining room table and opened the windows to let that heaviness go. I cleaned everything in the with lavender water and soap.
When we came to move in after closing, we found out that our house had been cleaned out. All of the copper wiring had been cut out of the basement. Some of the original fixtures in the house were missing. I guess someone broke in the Realtor told us. Frank and I just looked at each other and let it go. I guess we’ll deal with it we said, and of course, we did.
Colin and Andrea across the street were wonderful and offered us advice and direction on local amenities and places for shopping. They were artists and connected to the area art scene. They shared stories of their earlier days and travels.
I was really interested in learning more about the history of the house and of the original owners. They let me know that the library in town had all of the towns history recorded. I planned to go and research.
The town had been major transportation point during the American Revolution. It had a stage coach stop that was now a local restaurant owned by a husband and wife. There had also been a massacre in the town in 1778.
The town had a fort and in 1778 the British Allied with Senecas and Mohawks descended on the town and everyone in the fort was killed as well as as many townspeople. It was one of the most horrific massacres in the wars history. I now wondered where the house stood in relation to the fort and battle.
Given the history of the town, the house certainly needed light. I had decided to paint the front door, which was black. It looks foreboding, I thought. It definitely needs color. I looked over the historical color swatches, and had decided on a Adobe Orange and a historic gray blue for the trim around the window windows. The house itself would stay white.
I primed the front door and left it open to dry. Several times it closed on its own, I guess the ghost was protesting change. Well, I’m sorry but we need some brightness here, I said outloud. We’re starting new now and this is a welcoming place.
I sat outside on the porch and listen to this stream, gurgle and flow across the street. Neighbors walked by and said hi to me, they waved and smiled.
The geese seemed to settle across the street in the water. I happily listened to their call. It was a beautiful day and the sun was setting. This was my happy space. How beautiful this town is. The misty mornings reminded my of my childhood summers spent out of doors. Bare feet on cool, dewy grass and moutain mist rising towards the clouds.
It was getting late and I decided to go back in to make dinner. Frank was still working on pulling up old carpet. The floors underneath were the original wide plank and we marveled at how beautiful they were.
As I opened the old wooden screen door to admire the newly painted front door, it slammed shut. I stood and looked at the door and said, we live here now, like it or not.
Nonesvazquez 
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