I never knew I could feel so much affection for a house as I do this one. I’ll admit, I love it far more than I should.
Maybe it’s because of the splendid confluence of generations that gather here any given Sunday after church to share a meal. Maybe it’s the small gang of unruly cousins that can be found climbing the pear tree in the front yard or chasing one another through the grass at family gatherings. Maybe it’s because this is a place where people sit on the front porch in the mornings and wave at passing cars and retire to the back porch in the evenings to break beans or shell peas.
Maybe it’s because of the beautifully kept yard and garden and the wealth of knowledge that comes from those who tend to it.
Maybe it’s because the house always seems to smell of pound cake or cornbread and there is, most reliably, always sweet tea in the fridge. Maybe it’s because this isn’t a life I grew up with, but this house and the people who call it home have raised me in ways they will never fully understand. And they have given my children the most splendid, idealistic, memories of childhood.
They will look back on their time spent here as if it were a movie or a dream … the kind of memories that move in slow motion and seem to be bathed in golden light.
Or maybe it’s not really about the house at all. Maybe this house just represents a life that feels nostalgic … a life so many others remember from their past and have forgotten still exists in some places.
… It still exists here. This house is more than a house, it’s a life force. It almost has a heartbeat.
… And it is the place my heart will forever feel the most at home.
**Dedicated in loving memory to Coy Free, whom we miss dearly & called this house home.
And to Rubye, who loved him faithfully for 68 years … and lives there still.
– Mackenzie Free –
Wife, mother, photographer & current resident of the unassumingly magical town of Steele, Alabama
