Every neighborhood had one. The haunted house. Rumored to be the site of some grisly murder. Spooky. Foreboding. Mine was 400 McDonald Way. It was old. It was a weathered gray. And it sat in silence as our suburban neighborhoods grew up around it. It was now tops on my yard sale list for Friday, which I didn't realize until I pulled up out front and saw the "Estate Sale" signs.
Heart pounding, the theme to Jaws pounding in my head, I crossed the threshold. I was really glad my father was with me (they never cease to be daddy when things get tough.) It was a house. A normal house. A sad house full of someones memories for sale. I poked around, picked up a vintage embroidered apron, Christmas tablecloth and a few knick-knacks. Then I noticed that there were items on the patio (I love vintage garden stuff!) I made my way outside where I found tons of goodies. I also found a small elderly lady warming herself in the sun.
We said hello and began talking. I found out it was her home and that she was having to move. She seemed sad. I told her the entire haunted house story and she laughed softly and told me she had heard many stories about the house from passers-by. Her favorite, she said, was the story of Old McDonald (I kid you not, that is what he was called) got the house to put on his farmland. Apparently, Old McDonald won the house in a poker game. To move the home, she said, they rolled it on logs for miles. She continued to tell me stories and she brightened with each.
I ended up with some good stuff at that sale. The best was meeting the lady of the manor and finding out the house that seemed so scary was really a place of love, of light, of memories.
Thanks for indulging my emotional meandering. I'll post pictures of this weekend's finds tomorrow along with an amazing tip for making a beautiful wrought iron headboard for under $50.
Cristy
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