my father's house is now officially for sale (remembered in an excerpt from LOVE)

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Readers of this blog (and friends) know that I've been at my father's side much of this summer, readying his beautiful home for sale.

That house is now on the market, thanks to the great work of one of my area's most beloved and effective realtors, Marie Gordon. I'm also lucky to count Marie as a neighbor and as a friend.

If you're interested in a fully refurbished, five-bedroom, perpetually-well-cared-for, full-of-natural-light-and-window-boxes home in the Radnor School District—a house that sits up on a hill on a beautiful wooded lot—(or if you know someone who is), please check out this web site (including the amazing video!) and contact Marie.

In the meantime, I share this excerpt from LOVE: A Philadelphia Affair—reflections on the house where I lived from the age of thirteen until I embarked for school, marriage, and motherhood:

We drove—or, rather, our father did. We hardly spoke, save for the short verbs (Look.), the exclamations (Wow.), the necessary adjectives. It was like going to the movies in reverse—we moved, the scenes stayed still. It was like going window shopping, but there was nothing to buy. It was like getting away with something, but hunting for light is never a crime.

Finally, of course, we’d turn back toward the house where our holidays had begun—the house with the half-eaten turkey still in the pan and the gifts unwrapped and the games subverted. In our slow and usually silent approach along the bend of the last road, we could see, for an instant, our own lives lit as mysteriously and spectacularly as the strangers whose homes we’d just spied on. The shimmer of that big tree through the window. The white wings of the angels in the yard. The illuminating lights beneath the twin wreaths.

Who was lucky enough to live there? We were lucky enough to live there. It caught us, fabulously, by surprise.

From a chapter titled “The Lights Fantastic,”
LOVE: A Philadelphia Affair


Becca said...

So, so poignant. Houses hold so much. I still dream about the house I grew up in, and the one where I lived all my adult life and raised my son. Those walls hold pieces of our hearts and become part of our DNA.

I know this has been a bittersweet summer for you. Sending you love.

Beth Kephart said...

Feeling that love, Becca. Thank you.

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