Wednesday, October 3, 2012

letting go






Six weeks ago I finally got to see the inside of a cottage that I’ve been in love with for what seems like forever. It’s down the road from my family’s home and in the 17 years that we’ve been here, no one has ever seen anyone come or go from this tiny place. I’ve imagined what the inside looked like and what I could do if I ever got my hands on it. My vision was of squirrels and birds making their home inside (not far-fetched as I’ve learned) and me gladly covered in plaster and working my fingers to the bone trying to restore it. So, in August when I got a call from a friend on the lake saying, “your little cottage with the moss roof is for sale!”, I called the realtor immediately. 

Let me warn you now that this tale doesn’t have a fairytale ending but I wanted to share because I don't want this cottage to fade away without people knowing it.  An old house has a spirit and this one has a really wonderful spirit. Stepping through the front door was like stepping back in time. There are linens hanging on the drying rack in the bathroom, newspapers piled on the coffee table, a stack of old board games on a cot waiting to be played again, there's even a party line phone number hanging on the kitchen wall next to the rotary phone. Nothing has been touched in decades, as if the people who lived there vanished one day. As the story goes, it was a summer cottage and the couple who owned it, passed away long ago. Their daughters never returned and let it sit uninhabited all these years, until there were holes in the roof and flowers growing out of the rain gutters. I felt like I had been there before, you know that feeling you get when you have a connection with a person or place. I could see myself living there, gardening and washing dishes and being happy. And now this is where things take a turn. I was convinced, not without a fight, by the many contractors and masons who came to the cottage over the past month and a half, that every wall, floorboard, piece of framing, and stitch of furniture would need to be removed because of the extensive mold and the crumbling ash foundation. Unwilling to accept defeat, I then seriously considered the idea of having the house demolished and rebuilt exactly as it was, board for board. Tried to convince myself that this would be a good trade-off but I knew in my heart that it would never fill the space left. I really don’t want a likeness of the house I fell in love with, the walls wouldn’t have memories and my hands wouldn’t get dirty enough for my taste. 

The first time I visited the cottage, I immediately felt the family that spent their summers there. You couldn't help but feel their presence, surviving in all the objects that they lived with. I’m heartbroken to walk away from it but even more so knowing that someone will buy it and tear it down and that feeling that took a lifetime to bring into being will be gone forever. I had a long and sleepless night last night knowing that I would make the last call to the realtor today. I’m finding gratitude in the glimpse I had of this sweet house and comfort that no stone was left unturned in the hope of salvaging it. I guess the lesson here is in letting go…not entirely though, I am asking if I could buy the front door. Something from this little cottage is coming with me!

17 comments:

  1. Oh Phoebe! What a story! I can feel exactly the same curiosity, longing and sadness you feel for that little cottage. I just went through something similar myself but in a different way... I had only seen the cottage online and was not that familiar with it... on having a pest and building report done I too was made to understand the reality of the condition of the cottage... and alas, in the meantime someone swooped in and made an offer which was accepted by the vendors... needless to say they'll knock it down and all that history will be gone. Why do people let houses get to that state? I can't understand it. Anyway, letting go is hard, they say everything happens for a reason, even if we can't see it at the time, we have to trust that everything is as it should be. I hope you get to keep the front door!

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  2. I can't understand it either, Gaby. It's upsetting and pointless. Not sure why they didn't sell 20 years ago or maintain it in some way. Even a few patches on the roof would have helped. Thanks so much for your comment. Sorry to hear about your loss too. There's something out there waiting for us, we just haven't found it yet. I'm rooting for us! And hoping to hang that door wherever I end up calling home. x

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  3. this is almost the tale of my little house --- I fell in love with my house when I was just 5 years old - I took photos of the house and dreamed of making the place mine 'one day'.... the place was a wreck - termite infested, no glass in many of the windows (no window frames in some of the windows - just a piece of corrugated iron nailed in place over the space), no running water, no power (no alternate systems of energy or plumbing...) floorboards missing, rats, mice, BIRDS.... filled with the old weird furniture of the two old bachelors who lived in it until their quiet deaths....

    my tale has a happy ending however - as I refused to see reason and eventually I got my broken little house when I was in my early 20s - I lived in the ramshackled mess for more than a decade before I got the chance to fully repair my beauty..... I've lived in my funny little house for almost 25 years now. I know I'll never leave....

    ps - for those interested here is the tale of my house over the years >> http://rhondaayliffe.blogspot.com.au/2010/09/beginnings-coda.html --- sometimes there is a happy ending :~)

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  4. That's an amazing love story, Ronnie! Thank you for sharing. Congratulations on making it happen. So fantastic and inspiring! I'd be squatting in 'my' little cottage for sure right now if it weren't for that mold. You've given me hope for the next ramshackled mess I find...cause there will definitely be another one :)

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  5. Wow it looks magical. Sorry you had to let it go.

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  6. Thank you, Lady Spring. I love your intro on your blogger page. "She dreams of living in a forest surrounded by trees and flowers." Beautiful.

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  7. i know how it feels to let go of something that we feel was meant for us. something i think about during those times is that i was there and somehow i am taking this experience into my future self. i hope you were able to purchase the door. another little treasure is out there for you i'm sure.

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  8. Thanks, Ludid. I feel similarly. I'm absorbing the experience to help guide me tomorrow or someday down the road. I appreciate your words tremendously. x

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  9. I would have fallen in love as well, Phoebe! What a shame people let such treasures go....

    xxx zill.y

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  10. What a magical place, and how lucky for you to have discovered it, even briefly. Reminds me of a book I loved when I was little, Gone Away Lake. Happy continued treasure hunting Phoebe!

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  11. Phoebe- I for one am grateful you to,d this story. It's times like these when we grow. Sending you cyber hugs. Mandy

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  12. Thank you for all the really empathetic sentiments. I was feeling slightly silly for becoming so attached but now appreciate the experience of it.

    Big hugs to you, Zill.y & Mandy!

    Hi Liv, I looked up Gone Away Lake and read a brief passage of the story. It sounds perfect. So perfect that I ordered it so I can read it to my niece. Thank you so much for sharing and writing here. x

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  13. There is nothing like the sadness of coming so close to a dear, dear dream only to say goodbye. I feel a little goofy saying this, but I do feel quite sorry for your loss. There are some dreams that enter us in the deepest parts of our hearts, touching a place of truest desire and longing. These are the ones that hurt the most when they bare no fruition or crumble before our very eyes. These are the dreams of our souls. Just know, there will be another dream... and this little home, its history and its spirit, will be with you forever as inspiration. And knowing this dream will help you to realize the dreams of your future.

    Thanks for sharing, Pheobe.

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  14. I can understand your sadness. There is something moving about an abandoned house, as if it’s waiting for the right person to look after it. I’m not religious, but I do believe in energy, and I think a home absorbs our energy over the years so that it almost becomes an entity itself, a repository of love, of joy and despair, memories. I’m Scottish, and in the Highlands we have whole empty villages, where the tenants were cleared hundreds of years ago – ie forcibly evicted from their homes to make way for sheep. It’s heartbreaking to walk through the ruins and think that people lived there, hoped and dreamed there, were happy there once, but now there is nothing but lonely ruins. You have rescued your door, and that’s a wonderful thing – a small way to keep a memory alive and fulfil at least a tiny part of your dream. Lovely.

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  15. What a wonderful place ~LOVE it . I live in a little farmhouse that needed alot of love (still does :)) I wouldn't trade the charm of it for anything ! Hope you get the front door. That floral picture on the wall is ever so charming as is the birds nest above the outdoor light ~ thanks for sharing this sweet place :) So haPPy I found your blog today ~
    wishing you a coZy day :)

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  16. Thank you, Jesse, Lorna & Crystal for the thoughtful comments. Last week I learned that the cottage was purchased by someone. I don't know who yet but I know that they plan to tear it down. I feel like I should have a memorial before it happens.

    I so appreciate your empathy & find such comfort in all of your words.

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  17. The cottage really looks lovely; no wonder you fell in love with it. It's the kind of house where you want to raise your children or just like you said, “I could see myself living there, gardening and washing dishes and being happy.” It's heartbreaking that you didn't get it, but I hope they let you keep at least the door.

    Leif Clancy @ AllCountyExteriors.com

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