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There is a blue house sits at the end of my street. I would estimate its age to be 25 to 30 years. This is relatively new in many parts of the country. Where I live, in the Land of Shiny and New, it is positively prehistoric.

After being on the market for several months, the house recently sold. The previous occupants were an older couple—not elderly, just older. The woman has several health issues and the house’s upkeep simply proved too daunting a task for them.

Being curious (nosy) by nature, as soon as I saw the For Sale sign in the yard, I looked up the listing on the internet. The pictures of the house’s interior continued the theme from its exterior—outdated and dilapidated.

I got the feeling as I looked at the pictures that what my eyes saw was very different from the eyes that must have taken those pictures. Where I saw the reality of worn carpet, cracked plaster and outdated fixtures, the eyes behind the lens of the camera saw what the house once was. The memories within the walls of the house and in the hearts and minds of its inhabitants served as rose colored glasses, preserving a beauty that has long since faded.

The previous owners have left. Work crews have descended upon the house and have begun the task of renewal. Overgrown bushes and trees are being pruned, dead plants are being dug out of the flower beds. I’ve counted three rather large trailers filled with branches and debris so far, and they’ve barely made a dent into the overgrowth. Drywall, insulation, doors and fixtures lay together in a large heap on the driveway. The overcast, cold day adds to the ugliness of the scene. To the workers, it is just another job; the stripping away of the old and useless. The mess is temporary and will soon be cleared away so new life can be breathed into the house by yet another group of workers. Eventually a new family will move in with a fresh start at creating new memories.

The renovation of this little blue house on the corner holds a distinct advantage over the renewal that sometimes must take place in our lives. Because while the previous occupants of the blue house have moved away and do not have to witness to pruning and/or demolition of those things that no longer serve their intended purpose, we are a captive audience to the sometimes painful yet necessary pruning, demolition and reconstruction that must take place within us in order for us begin anew.


This blog post is a submission into “Beginnings” writing project hosted by lovely and talented Laura Barkat over at Seedlings in Stone