Keri here: For sure the story starts here… in this house. Early family pictures show this house to be out in the country… now it is Old North Durham.
The boards, the windows, the landscape are like magnets for me… calling me back. Just seeing the house soothes my soul. After Granddaddy and Grandmother were gone the house became ‘ours’, But we were too young to keep it. Everything went into a trust to be divided later.
So here we are…standing like tourists in front of the house, divided from our roots because the family members are all gone. Nothing but ghosts. But, like a ghost, there is a lingering spirit asking – “What happened?” How did the house skip a generation? Henry Jr. should have been the one to inherit the house. Not us. It was out of the natural order. I also recall the handprints in cement on the back stairs. I used to lay my hand over the impression and see how close my hand is to my father’s hand. Such a good metaphor as his impression is all way have and have had since 1966.
Birdie and Henry worked so hard for every aspect of this place. I can feel them there. I can see Henry standing at the base of these stairs for a photo to mark all the important chapters in life. Now we drive by and wonder… what might have been?