Tears

During our wonderful week in Hawaii, I received a Facebook message from a woman from Lonoke to let me know that my mother's house had burned.  It's a small town so everyone knew about this but my cousins were hesitant to tell me.  They eventually did decide to tell me and sent these shocking photos.

My mother has been dead for almost 11 years and I haven't owned this house in about as long. Yet looking at these photos brings me to tears.

Years ago, I was in Lonoke and noticed that the new owner, who I had never met, was outside so I stopped and told him who I was.  He invited me in to see the improvements that they had made to the house.  Seeing a nice young couple living there and obviously enjoying the house comforted my soul.  Life goes on. So many sweet memories were made in that house and it felt right that a new family was now making their own!  

My mother built it 5 years after my Daddy died. She confided in me that living in the house that she had lived in for so many years with my Daddy was hard for her.  She said that every time she looked up she expected to see him come into the room.  Building a new house was one step forward in her mourning process.  

Moma loved that house and was proud of it.  The yard was meticulously taken care of.  She mowed her own lawn and raked her own leaves up to the time of her death at age 88.  The house had a distinct smell that I can still conjure up in my mind.  It was a mixture of rose petals and wood smoke from her fireplace that was comforting and let me know that I had come home to my mother who loved me totally.

Ironic that it would burn down. I'm no fire investigator but it looks like the fire started in the living room.  You can even see through to the mantle above the fireplace.

 I am thankful that no one was home when this fire started.  Thankful that the memories will always be tucked up for safekeeping in my heart.