Safe & Sound

It was 2016 and we were house shopping. At this point in time we had looked at over six houses and were outbid on five of them and walked away from the 6th after a bad inspection report. We looked at new houses, old houses, and everything in-between and were getting desperate.

My house had spent a whole six hours on the market before we made an offer. Based on experience, we knew there was no way the owners would take asking price, they could’ve easily asked for fifty grand more and someone would’ve bought it. Yet, the owner met us and read my letter thanking her for the privilege of simply touring the house. They accepted our sad little offer because they felt we were “right for the house”.

I didn’t quite understand it then, but ten years later it makes sense.

2016 and I’m so excited to show my beloved grandma my house, only she takes three steps forward with her cane and says, “I know this house…”

It’s 1944 and my great grandmother is working as a waitress in my town where she’s saving up all her tips. Her husband is in the military and travels up and down the coast. He informs her that they’re going back to California one day, to which my grandma says, “You go, we’re going to stay.”

An old housing complex full of craftsman homes and she used her tip money as a down payment for one. Grandma spends several years living in this neighborhood until it gets torn down to build a grocery store. She assumed all the houses were destroyed but she was wrong.

it’s 1972 and the commissioner of my town learns of the grocery store development. He buys two of the houses from the site and moves them across town. This creates a stir. Photos are taken of houses on flatbeds transported over the freeway. He builds a neighborhood around these two houses. He and his wife live there until they’re too old to use the second story they built and move into the duplex next door. They sell it to a couple who ultimately sell it to me.

It’s 2018 and there’s a strange lady staring at my house. At first I’m spooked but decide she needs help. She doesn’t respond when I ask her if she’s okay, she instead runs down the street. Weird, but okay. She comes back a few months later and I meet her husband. He’s a handyman for the duplexes and keeps his wife with him as she’s just had a stroke. The wife wasn’t prone to running away, she just liked my house and wanted to stare at it.

So sometimes, there’s an old lady who stands in my yard and stares at the house. It’s okay, I know she’s here.

It’s 2022 and my neighbor sends me a text. There’s two teenagers in my bushes and it looks weird. He wants to call the cops but I tell him to hold off as I check out the situation. Indeed, there were a couple of teenagers in my bamboo bushes without shoes on. And while I still don’t entirely understand the situation, I know a seizure when I see one.

Turns out the boy had Sickle Cell and did what kids do (even sick kids make stupid decisions) and took a Molly. This caused a reaction with his meds and kaboom, smashed bamboo by a kid that looked like he was fighting rigor mortis. I got him on my porch and bundled up with blankets until the EMT came. He doesn’t entirely remember how or why they decided my house was the place to go, but I don’t ask.

At this rate I have a theory….

2024 and two broccoli-headed teenage boys are knocking on my door with terrified expressions on their faces. They need to charge their phones and think they’re being chased. I let them in and charge their phones. This was shortly after Trump was elected the second time, so I have my suspicions as to why a car decided to chase a couple of brown kids several miles from the high school, but I keep them to myself.

After jumping fences and generally being lost, they finally found my yard and knocked on the door to ask for help. I had to ask why, and they said, “This house feels safe.”

Anyone who’s been to my house loves it. It’s old and kooky but there is indeed a safety here. In the spring and summer months, we like to sit on our porch and enjoy our yard. While all the world is buzzing around us, this house remains unchanged. Not the physicality, mind you, it’s had many renovations throughout the century, but its developed its own aura.

My grandma was the safest person in the world for me, so maybe her presence was absorbed in the walls or something. It could be that the landscaping inherited from the previous owner is feng shui. I’m not entirely certain what brings the frightened animals seeking refuge from fireworks, or why all the neighborhood children like to play hide in seek within it’s dark closets (sometimes I don’t even know they’re in here, that’s fun).

I just know that my house is a safe place for more than just me, and I wish to keep it that way.