I am a collector of things.  I have to be very careful, force myself to edit, else this house would be featured on the next season of Hoarders for sure.  Except for the dead cats that they seem to find in every episode.  I just can’t with that…Though, to say it is a constant process is an understatement.  I remember moving from a one-bedroom loft that we rented into this small three bedroom house with a yard (!) and thinking, “I will never fill all of this space!”.  It seemed impossible.  Suddenly, instead of one closet & a laundry room for storage, I had three bedrooms, which means three closets, a linen closet, a laundry closet (because to call it a room would be stretching the truth A LOT & even this Dandy doesn’t tell tales that tall!) and, best of all, an attic!

When I hear that word, attic, the first thing I think of is an impressive, expansive room tucked under the high eaves of a home.  I’m channeling Flowers In The Attic and a little bit of Charmed (ok, a lot of Charmed).  I am, after all, SO Piper it’s uncanny.  But, let’s be honest: little bungalow houses like this one don’t have insanely high roof lines, nor do I have supernatural powers inherited from a hundreds year old family line of witches.  All I got was red hair, a questionable temper & the tendency to gain weight in the belly area.  Hooray for me!  Anyway, back to the attic.  I don’t have to guts to show you what it looks like right now.  It’s a mess.  Every trip up there, which is not many because I hate ladders of any kind, even ones that short, is like a treasure hunt.  I find things that I had totally forgotten about.  Speakers, lamps, Christmas decorations, painting supplies, the list goes on & on…

One of the last times I was up there I found an art portfolio covered in dust & insulation.  I grabbed it up, hoping it would be a treasure akin to those found on If These Walls Could Talk.  I’ll not tease you; it wasn’t.  There were a few art projects, mostly bad high school linear perspective stuff, but there was one thing that I loved.  A drawing done with crayon on some type of brown tissue-like paper (maybe a cheap paper bag?).  Simple, unpretentious, sweet.  Best of all, I believe that it was done by one of the two women that last lived here when she was young.  It had to have a place in our home.  We owed it to these women. It is not literal but when I see it, it makes me think of the relationship between parents & children, of maternal bonds and of people, not so unlike us, that lived before in this little house and made it their home.


Susan & Ivey

Even though it is hard for some to understand, it’s these random things that you find when you live in an old house that make it worthwhile.  Maybe one day, many years from now, some enthusiastic Dandy will buy this house, hopefully at an insanely-high mark-up, and he too will find little treasures scattered about.  Maybe he’ll understand the faint connections with the past & decide that he too must pay homage to these people that he doesn’t even know.  He may not think of this when he chooses this house for his home & he may never meet us.  But, we will leave him something that he can randomly stumble upon & love as if it were meant for him.  After all, we all have our legacies to leave behind.  Some are just more subtle than others.


Where we lay our heads at night (yes, there is usually at least one animal that also invades the space)


A daily reminder about families & small spaces that become homes