The "Little House"

[ This post was originally on another blog I was keeping on 6/03/07. ]

Back in the '50s, my grandparents built their home, here, on this street... as did my grandmother's brothers and sisters- all in a row. I dunno whose home came first, but our yard is technically two properties: one for the small, 'temporary' house for the family to live in while they built the other, and a larger one where the main house now sits.

This is the 'little house'.

(click for larger image)
Taken in '05, after the season's first snowfall @ dawn.

Er, was the 'little house'. 'Tis no longer.

We had to tear it down 'cause apparently, it was an eyesore. An eyesore? To who? If ya ask me, it looks like a cute little cottage in the middle of a wooded area- not something you'd find in a fairly metropolitan area such as this. Actually, I think it was adorable, dammit. But alas, one of our yenta neighbors called the township so many times that they came out to inspect it.

It was really a glorified storage unit/bicycle garage, for a while. The roof had been chewed by squirrels, and the entire thing was being engulfed in ivy. Because it was falling apart, though, we were told to either fix it or get rid of it. So we did- we tore it down. *sniffsniff* My mother, my uncle, aunt, and mom's ex all worked on breaking the structure into bits and now, the spot where the house stood is an overgrown area of weeds, ivy, and bunnies. Lots of bunnies (yay bunnies!). If you ask me, the lack of any structure there looks worse than it did when it was, apparently, an 'eyesore'. Damn neighbors.

It was always a dream of mine to fix it up and call that my home. It'd be like my own little house, but under the family's umbrella of safety and, well, it woulda been a LOT cheaper to live in than any apartment in this area. My mom and her brothers (my aunt wasn't born yet) grew up in that tiny little home, then it eventually became my great grandmother's house until she passed away. My mother and uncle both lived in that house, separately, as well- it was like a stop on the road to real life. The coming of age child who desperately needed their own space, but wanted to be near mom and dad, could head in there and feel like they had their own li'l pad- but close to home. VERY close to home. Like, a few yards. Heh. My cousins even lived in there for many years until they eventually bought their own home a few towns away.

If walls could talk, I'd bet those walls woulda been utter chatter boxes... and I woulda loved to listen to all the stories.