The Childs lived in the house for a lifetime, farmed, and raised a family. Like others of its kind, the old vacant house stood for years as if in denial that she was no longer necessary. Nestled in a wooded grove on a dirt road, the house always startled me with its appearance after topping the rise in the road. I admired it, felt an affinity for it, somehow a kinship. I always wanted to fill it with laughter, children, and the sounds of life, somehow remove its mournful look. Time has no doubt handled that problem, for I have been told she no longer stands.
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