I love old things.
Oh my god, do I love them.
That’s why I live in a second oldest building in town
which is, in fact, a nationally registered historical landmark.
All the lives that went before me
passed or stayed here – where I am –
and the building that cradles me
has seen it all and
withstood the test of time.
Fully restored, it gives me a sense of
connection to a past I will never know
But I can feel it second hand: warm, and loved.
Which brings me to second-hand stores.
Another thing I love.
The REAL wood furniture is one of my favorites
But so are smaller items
All have been loved by someone before me
else they wouldn’t be in a second-hand store.
When you don’t care about something you’re done with
you throw it out.
When you love it,
you want it to go to another home
and be loved by someone else.
But the really old things
(what we call antique is actually ‘new’ in comparison)
like the old buildings in England
that have been around for, oh
six or eight hundred years.
What life is held within THOSE walls!
It is mankind’s ‘old growth forest’ built by people
And it makes one want to touch gently
and walk carefully.
The outside is worn
and when the setting sun
hits at just the right angle
the building glows and intangible
gold that warms it
and lends an alive calm
that no human can live
long enough to attain.
It’s beauty is often captured later in life, by older and wiser eyes.
The one regret I have of choosing an honest and therefore poverty-stricken life
is that I cannot visit
and touch the walls.