I was back at the Stone House again! So this apparent metaphor for my life (I haven't quite worked through why, yet, but it appears it could be!) has called me again. I should have walked a hilly way, but there was a thought hovering in the back of my brain that needed to be addressed. Besides, my knee was a little unhappy with me yesterday, so I needed to take it slightly easy on myself. Yeah, that and the stone house wanted my attention.
I'm not sure why some things sort of scare me. Especially things that are technically breaking the rules. One of the burdens of being an oldest child is that you tend to be a rule follower. I 'm pretty sure the stone house is not actually mine to just explore at my own leisure; I did not go up the hill to visit it for many years, just because I don't own it. But I have worked up the courage to go up there and see it up close, and then from behind and lots of other angles as well. But going inside has never been something I had actually planned to do. It is a bit creepy in there: things are falling down, the floor is of questionable condition, there is literally debris EVERYWHERE. A minefield of falling plaster, lath, beer bottles, and other stuff.
The other day, after my last visit there, I had been thinking about my forays to the house and I suddenly had a thought that I should really just go inside. I have been everywhere else- might as well complete the journey. The next day after my latest SH post, Steve, a lose-it friend and fellow Sconnie, (who I really hope I can at least meet for a moment sometime this summer) asked me outright if I had ever gone inside. And so the plan formulated and I knew that the next time I walked by, I would be going in!
|Door is the first opening on the dark side|
Going in was slightly dramatic as that first step up is a doozy. Obviously there are some missing stairs into the place, which is probably fine. Keeps a few people out I should imagine, because you kind of need to want to go in there. Once in, it was pretty surreal- dark shadows, bright beams of sun, lots of junk on the floor to step around. I kept losing my sunglasses from looking up at the 2nd floor. I don't know really where the stairs are/were for the second floor, but it would be UNWISE to go up. Sketchy footing to say the least.
|Looking up at the 2nd story|
The inside of this house is haunting. It has the patina of age, a coating of decay, but yet is strangely beautiful. The colors on the walls, the textures of the exposed wood, the rust on the stove are all things that many people would consider ugly. Not so. At least not to me. Again, the story, the past, the unknown made me wonder and make me think. Certainly no questions were answered by entering this room, but I did feel brave for a moment. I like brave.
I need to be brave at this time in my life. I have traveled a big personal journey and I seem to be at a place of transition. If I stay the exact same person, this journey could be lost. If I change dramatically, the outcome might not be as I imagined. So how do you transition into a person who you don't know, but really need to be? I'm not sure. I hope I am brave enough to find out. I think I am.
|The hole in the floor is why I didn't go into the second room!|
|Patina of age|
|Looking into the second room|
|View across the street|