shows like a dollhouse
The obit 19 hours ago ..... the real estate agent who sold me my home passed away at 82 years old. It was said to be a peaceful death and her husband of 30 years died 11 days later.
In all the years she lived here in town, I never knew she was married and I never knew she had twins from her previous marriage. One of them died at some point. It did not say when, but losing a child doesn't need a lot of details. We can imagine. People say, "I can't imagine," but they can and don't want to say anything else. I never knew her dad died in a work accident when she was a teen. Her mom brought her and her sisters here after his death. Her maiden name was a popular old time preacher's name.
I do remember hearing that she started many things, clubs, groups, volunteering, donated money, etc. She was #1 in real estate in the town and there will he a big "celebration of life" downtown next month. Everyone is welcome.
I remember her being patient with me and trying to find me something in my price range. There were many places we looked at and I remember them all.
I was under 25, not too wise, and given to day dreaming, fantasies, sowing "wild oats" and so on.
There was one house I couldn't afford. A double story in a good location. She showed it anyway. Beautiful pine trees all around. Wrap around driveway. It had green shag carpet throughout, up and downstairs. I remember her saying how easy it would be to change carpet, but I was convinced no way would I get around to it, and stairs were green shag too and I got "stuck" on those stairs! It was too difficult to think about putting in new carpet on those stairs!
She showed me one house that was so unlevel! Cute outside but no yard and not a great neighborhood. Too open plan inside and all I could see was a marble I brought rolling around in every room!
There were trailers too. Nice enough, but I told her I did not want to live in a trailer, as that was all I had lived in, other than an apartment I rented when I turned 18. I wanted the sturdiness of a house. Probably tired of that term, "White trailer trash," as well. Even if I had never been called that, I knew that term was out there.
The one trailer she did show came furnished. Pretty dark wood furniture. Real wood. A huge, thick waterbed in the back bedroom, a sunk in, step down livingroom and established fruit trees outside. It was small and perfect for me, but I didn't want a trailer.
There was one where the couple who owned it talked a full conversation about how lucky the place was when I asked why there were triangles in all the corners.
The best place for me, of course, was my home. I didn't even take my sunglasses off to look properly inside. 5 lots with a mountain back yard.
The father here had dementia and was sat outside at the back door in a rocker. He pointed out a huge rock on the top of the mountain and told me not to worry about it falling on me or the house as it had not moved in the amount of the time he had been here.
He was known for burying things, so I still think I will find money, but so far just old cups and plates.
The main reason I bought this house was my real estate agent's write up, her description. Probably because of all the nooks and crannies, built in book shelves, closets under closets, she said, "Shows like a Dollhouse."
I know it was just a nice way of saying, "SMALL," but I liked it. The creative imagination. "Shows like a Dollhouse."