Tuesday, July 26, 2011

The House That Isn't There

I am getting no "real" writing done because I am on-site in East of Nowhere. I haven't been to this particular spot in six years. At the end of the day (no, not that horrible business cliche, I mean literally at the end of the day), I decided to go for a hike because there is f***-all to do in this place other than walk around.

Being an off-the-beaten-path type, I found myself walking down a road I vaguely remembered. It ended in a small clearing that centered around a white clapboard house all by itself in the middle of the woods. The very old woman who lived there made jewelry to support herself. Closest thing to a real-life gnome that I ever met.

At the end of the road, there was - nothing.

Years ago, there was a flood around here. Before the water could get up as far as her home, the Federal Emergency Management Association people declared the whole area unsafe  and picked up her home and moved it. I'd like to think she still lives in it up on a hill somewhere instead of spending her remaining days in a senior citizen's center playing bingo.

Here is the spot where the house used to be.

Which got me to thinking about the people and things that disappear from our lives. It seems that I ought to be able to fit that into a novel somewhere.


  1. I agree, there ought to be a novel there and I'm sure you'll find it. Wonderful thoughts.

  2. Thank you for the encouraging words. I needed that. I've been doing the work of two people lately (someone's mother died so, of course, I had to help out) and tonight is the first time in days I've had for writing, blogs, twitter, bathing - just kidding about the bathing.