It's MY House

Was that the screen door slamming? It had to be. That sound is unmistakable. There was the characteristic squeak just before I heard the bang of the wood clapping against the door facing. The sound could only mean one thing. Someone is here to look at the house again.

When will they learn this is MY house, and I don’t want just anyone else to live here? I’ve been here for over a hundred years, and I have no intention of leaving any time soon. Besides, no one else will share my vision for the place.

I took painstaking care with furniture placement and color choices. If someone else is going to move in, it must be someone who will appreciate my home as much as I do. Not to mention, it must be someone who is willing to live with me and all of my eccentricities.

So far, I’ve managed to keep unwanted guests and roommates away. I have quite a knack for sizing someone up quickly, if I do say so myself, and I make their decision regarding making an offer on the place an easy one.

 There’s only been one offer in the last hundred years, and that fell through when I heard through the grapevine they wanted to turn the basement into a rental apartment for those horrible vagabonds that were putting the railroad through town. No sir! I did not want that nasty dirt on my beautiful hardwood floors even if it was just coming through the kitchen to the basement stairs. Not to mention those fellows were known for their rabble-rousing ways, and I am a respectable homeowner, thank you very much.

You’re probably wondering how I’ve managed to keep people from buying my lovely home. Honestly, it depends on the situation. We’ll just say, that most people around here claim my home is haunted. I don’t know why they say that. There’s no one here but me, and I’m quite personable as long as you don’t plan to change anything.

For example, about fifty years ago, a lovely young couple came calling with the intention of purchasing my home. At first glance, they seemed respectable. I actually considered allowing them to join me and make my days a little less lonely. Then, I heard them talking to each other.

She was talking about the beautiful mantle over the fireplace in the parlor, and the crown molding throughout. I could tell she truly appreciated the architecture of my little home. But that man? He wanted to PAINT all of the lovely wood—even the floors! Now, you tell me, who in their right mind paints beautiful oak wood floors? Those were not cheap, let me tell you! He had absolutely no appreciation for the exquisite grain in the wood throughout my home.

Then, he started talking about removing my elegant crystal chandelier that I had custom crafted for my dining room. He wanted to knock down walls, and remove my hand-crafted cabinetry. Updating appliances I understand. Obviously, the place needs new plumbing and electrical after 100 years, but that’s no reason to completely destroy everything else!

I’m not unreasonable. Upgrades can be negotiated. But, come on, a custom crafted crystal chandelier is a priceless addition to a grand home, and should be treated as a valuable heirloom rather than a piece of trash to be thrown in the nearest bin.

Don’t even get me started on what that person wanted to do with my beautiful furniture. If people can’t appreciate classic pieces, they have no business walking through my door.

That couple was easy to scare away. It just took a door slamming upstairs when the house was silent, and everyone was downstairs. They ran from here as fast as they could go, and I never saw or heard them again. Good riddance!

Another time, a Chopin piece blaring from the silence of the attic when everyone was outside was enough to run the intruders away from my home. I choose to call them intruders because, after all, I didn’t invite them here. I’m perfectly content lounging in my room with my books, listening to my music in the evening, and keeping watch over the neighborhood from the upstairs window.

Curiosity is killing the proverbial cat, so I must see who has opened my door this time. Only then will I know how or if I will need to run this potential buyer off. Sometimes they make a good first impression, but a second visit to the house makes a huge difference to whether I am willing to allow them to share my home. Other times, I know immediately. First impressions definitely make a tremendous difference in my thoughts about a potential buyer.

Sadly, I don’t have the ability to actually interact with any of these people, but I can certainly listen and watch. If what I see or hear disturbs me, I can slam doors, manipulate objects, blast music, and make lights flicker. I can also make it sound like someone is stomping upstairs…because there is…me!

The screen door has slammed again. Perhaps they’ve taken their leave. Glancing out the front bedroom window, I see that of course, I’m not that lucky today. Instead, someone else has entered my domain. Now, I must size up multiple individuals. One human walking through my home is trying enough, but more than one is thoroughly draining for me.

I hear feet running below. That can only mean one thing. There are children within the walls of my home again. Some may think that would automatically mean I will go into full haunt mode, but the opposite is true. Children are more likely to be welcome here. They bring laughter and joy with them.

“Emma, Maxwell, stop running! We’re inside, and running is for outdoors!”

Well, at least one adult in this group has respect for someone else’s things.

“Sorry, Mom!” The children shout back in unison. “This place is huge! And look at this fireplace! Imagine reading in front of it this winter!”

That’s another point for this family. They enjoy reading by the fire on a cold winter’s night. I wonder if they read aloud together or if they simply read on their own. Either way, they enjoy one of my favorite pastimes—reading.

“Dad! Come here! You’ve got to see this!”

The young voice was decidedly male, so it must have been young Maxwell. My curiosity is getting the better of me, so I glide downstairs to see what has gotten the youngster so excited.

“What is it Max? Mom wants me to look at the kitchen with her.”

“Dad!” Emma, this time, “I’ve never seen so many books anywhere except the library!”

The children have wandered into my personal favorite room on the lower floor of the house: the library. I spent countless hours on the window seat or on the rug before the fire reading. My favorite activity when we traveled to town was selecting the newest book for my collection. I prided myself on selecting only the best for my shelves. You won’t find worthless nonsense hiding amongst the other works either.

As I enter the library, I see both children choose a book from the shelves. Emma has selected a treasured volume of Dickinson poems and Maxwell has chosen A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. They both settle into the settee directly across from the fireplace and begin to read as their father heads to find their mother in the kitchen.

As I’m confident the children are quietly entertained for the afternoon at least, I follow their father. As he enters the kitchen, he tells his wife, “You should see the children. They’ve found a library that is well-stocked with books, and they are already making themselves right at home reading. They love this house!”

She turns to face him and says, “There’s a library?”

He beams at her, “ Yes! And it already has all of our favorites!”

The words I hear next are icing on the proverbial cake for me, “Have you seen all the beautiful woodwork? And, just look at this custom built kitchen! Jack, I love this house! I can tell someone loved it and really made it a home.”

“Just wait until you see the chandelier in the dining room, then. You will be in love for sure.”

That conversation has sealed the deal for me. This family can purchase my home. They love it as much as I do. Jack calls the real estate agent on the spot and makes an offer. I know my heirs will accept it because they just want to be finished with the maintenance on my beautiful home. If they cared half as much as I did they would be living here.

It’s now three months after that first slam of the screen door, and Jack, Sarah, Emma, and Maxwell have begun sharing my exquisite home with me. Sarah decided rather than paint she was going to take the time to wash down every single wall in the home to refresh the natural beauty. I have no doubt that my baby will soon be a showplace again.

Maxwell and Emma have brought laughter and joy back into the house. I enjoy watching them play in the backyard or read in the library. Sarah and Jack take good care of their children and they honor the history of my house while making the necessary upgrades to keep it comfortable for their family. I definitely chose the right family to share my home with me. If only I could let them know I’m here without scaring them away.