Tombstone Of A Home

Tombstone Of A Home

Where there now stands a lonesome chimney, there was a home. The chimney is all that remains as a testimonial that once upon a time, someone cared. With loving hands, each brick was carefully laid in a mortar of mud. Even though all traces of the home have long since disappeared, the chimney still proudly stands.

How many cold mornings did this chimney serve it’s purpose, doing its job of warming the souls and bottoms, the faces and hearts of the family who lived here? How many children were warmed by it’s hearth before going out into the cold, perhaps to school or to do their chores, or a father warmed his feet and hands after working in the fields? How many clothes did the mother press with the flatirons that were heated here? How many ? How much? How many times? So many questions, so much history.

The lonesome chimney now stands as a grave marker in time. It has many memories that it could tell. It makes a person wonder if it had a mantle. If so, were the family portraits there? Maybe a bud vase of wildflowers given by a child. Think of the labor that went into the building of this chimney, and also of the building of the home and family that it warmed. It now serves as a reminder that long ago, someone’s father was young and strong enough to cut and split the wood for it’s use. That long ago, someone’s mother was young and strong enough to keep that fire burning brightly.

The outline of the home can still be seen if you look hard enough and possibly have a little imagination. If you listen long enough, you can almost hear the voices and laughter of the family that once lived here. You can see where there might have been a rope swing tied in the ancient oak that still stands in what must have been the front yard. If you are lucky enough to be here in springtime, you may see some of the mothers now wild gladiola and tulip bulbs peeking through the soil. You can imagine where the clothesline was, where the garden, chicken coop, and hog pen must have been. You can see what could have been the children’s favorite place to play, and where the mother kept watch over them. If you listen closely enough, you may even be able to hear the family dog scratching out a cool place in the sand under the porch that once stood here.

The mother and father that once lived here grew old and watched as they slowly lost everything. They were no longer young and strong enough for the old house. Life had called their children into a different way of life. Not better, not worse, just different. The children rarely visited after they grew up and moved away. Sometimes, the old couple would receive a photograph or letter from the grandchildren, but not very often. You know how busy our lives can be. The children decided that they were too old to remain in the house. Sometimes, the roof would leak and the cold breath of winter would come creeping in the cracks around the doors. After a lot of convincing, the couple was moved into a “retirement” home. It was here that they passed away. The children never returned to the old home place.

Almost like a person, a home needs love to survive. When no one cared anymore, slowly, board by board, and nail by nail, the old house lost it’s strength and gave up. No more laughter would fill it’s rooms, no more dinners in its kitchen, no more fires would burn. Perhaps the chimney still stands in the hopes that someday, maybe a family will return. Maybe they will see how well it has stood the test of time and rebuild a new home around it. In the meantime, the lonesome chimney will continue to stand proudly, holding on to the memories of the past. Always and always, forever hoping.