In a wooded area just beyond my back porch stand (well sorta. . . more like "lean") the remains of an old building whose walls I really wish could talk. What is the story? How long ago was it built? And for what purpose?
I wonder. . .
Was it a playhouse or clubhouse for a big family of cousins who needed a place to gather and giggle? Was it a toolshed or workshop for a hard-working man with leathery hands?
Every time I see an old abandoned building. . .
I wonder. . .
Who looked through that window? A little girl who was playing house but had to check every few minutes so that she wouldn't miss that moment when her Dad finally got home from working all day? A young man who was waiting for his friend down the road to show up with a fishing pole and some bait? An older man who was crafting a beautiful dollhouse for his daughter and needed to keep watch and make sure she wasn't coming close enough to see his work before it was finished?
I wonder. . .
Who crouched in that corner? A young Mom playing hide and go seek with her children? A big brother who needed 5 minutes of peace from his little sister full of questions? Maybe a family of bunnies looking for a warm spot on a cold autumn night when winter temperatures arrived much sooner than usual?
I wonder. . .
Did a baby fawn press against the warm wall that the sun shone against on the first day of spring? And on that very same day just after the fawn scampered away, did someone start stacking wood in there again after emptying it all out during the winter?
I just wonder. . .
Old (even dilapidated) buildings fascinate me. And make me very curious. Am I the only one? What has this effect on you? What makes you wonder?
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