I don’t mean the “they die and go to heaven” definition. I mean: do certain places have an emotional history tied to them that is palpable, that elicits all the experiences of the past that they have borne witness to?
I think the answer is yes.
I have a writer friend who totally loves her home. She tells everyone that since moving in there, she has had a creative rebirth. She feels invigorated and has poured that energy out onto the page. I happen to love my little house, too. I would probably live here forever if the fates allow.
|My Cozy Abode is Perfect for Me|
When I lived in Hell, the house held an unfortunate history. The previous owners’ daughter had been tragically killed, and after that the house stood empty and alone for a long period of time. Even with all the elbow grease, redecorating and untold work hours that I spent on that poor, sad house, no amount of effort could erase its joyless story. In the end, I shed an infinite number of tears there, as well.
And what about this old gal?
|Long Pond Road, Urbana|
Part barn, part homestead, look over her shoulder and see the magnificent view she commands. What story would her silent tongue tell?
|Along Route 40, Outside London|
What happened in Room Number Two?
|Room Number Two|
I can tell you what happened in Room Number Two: Life. Life happened here. It is what is happening all around you right now, this very minute of this very hour even as the seconds drain away. Is the place you are in now recording this moment? How will it register in ten years? Or fifty years?
Be sure to make the most of it.