On Friday Jason had arranged for me to drop off our van at our mechanic’s house—which is across the street from where we used to live, near my mom and dad’s.
When I got there, I was shocked to see that our old house was ... gone. More accurately, it was in the process of being demolished.
When we were living there, our landlords had decided to sell the house. We wished we could have bought it, because we really loved it there—it was a short walk from Grandma and Grandpa’s and close to the school; it had a huge backyard and beautiful woodwork inside.
Anyway, it was sold for what seemed like a fortune at the time and then rented out again. We have watched it go downhill over the past four and a half years as the renters have neglected the yard, but our kids have always dreamed of moving back there.
A re-zoning sign went up on the front lawn several months ago, indicating that someone had proposed a new development for that area—but the sign had been there so long we wondered if anything would ever become of it.
Anyway, on Friday it looked as though a bomb had gone off, and it was kind of sad to see the house destroyed. According to our old neighbor, it took only an hour and a half to come down. The owners are planning to put up two new houses, so it will be interesting to watch those go up over the next little while.
But a piece of our history is definitely gone!
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