Journey’s Part II

It was a sunny day and I was happily shifting through color swatches and fabric samples. The rooms in the house were dark, unusually so. The walls were painted in dark paint, casting a quiet, uneasy weight over the rooms. 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 connect to the 1840 vibe of the house.

I looked around again and even with all of the wide windows, the rooms 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 house with lavender water and soap.

When we arrived to move in after closing, we found that our house had been cleaned out. All of the copper pipes 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.

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 local library had all of the towns history recorded. I planned to go and research.

The town had been a 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 at one point and in 1778 the British Allied with Senecas and Mohawk descended upon the town, everyone in the fort was killed. Many townspeople were also killed throughout the day. I now wondered where the house stood in relation to the fort.

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 decided on a Adobe Orange and a historic blue gray for the trim around the windows. The house itself would stay white.

I primed the front door and left it open to dry. As I cleaned the windows and trim in the other room, the door appeared to close on its own. I guess the ghost is protesting change I thought. Well, I’m sorry but we need some brightness here, I said outloud. We’re starting new and this is a welcoming place.

I sat outside on the porch and listened to this stream. It gurgled and flowed from across the street. Neighbors walked by and said hi to me, they waved and smiled.

Canadian geese seemed to settle down for the evening in the comfort of 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 the town is.

The misty mornings here reminded my of my childhood summers spent out of doors. Bare feet running 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 upstairs, 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 quickly slammed shut. I stood and looked at the door and said, we live here now, like it or not.