The Sticker Lot Turns Silver

She leaves us alone to wander the rooms and initially we're favorably impressed with what we see. Enough space for everyone, reasonable price, acceptable flooring. A definite contender until we reach the master bedroom with its oversized soaker tub anchoring the space. Rejecting that property, we drive through the surrounding streets.

Between two decades-old houses, there's a vacant lot. A hand-written sign, stuck in the dirt near the street, proclaims the property's availability. Henry copies the phone number and, fearing that someone else might have the same idea, carefully moves the sign further back on the property to a less visible area.



Within a short time, we're the new owners. Construction begins with the incomparable Mark overseeing the project. He is meticulous, with an unerring style that combines form and function. Craftsmen adhere to his rigid standards without complaint. We bend occasionally to his suggestions and never fail to be impressed with the outcome. It's almost as if he's building for his family rather than ours.



With five people to accommodate, the square footage is commodious. Split bedrooms assure privacy with the center dedicated to shared activities. The custom design derives from two floor plans we admired and then tweaked to meet our family's needs. Walls are moved, archways curved, an extra bath created. Soaring ceilings enhance the living and dining rooms. A split marble fireplace elegantly embellishes one corner.

With chocolate carpet and smooth pavers, the house seems endless. Cabinets fill the ample kitchen and surround a large garden window. Spacious closets magnify each bedroom, almost encouraging the occupant to continue accumulating possessions.

When it's time to dig the pool, Henry takes a stick and draws the design in the backyard dirt. A large rectangle with spa to the side. Deep enough for a diving board with steps the length of the pool in the shallow end. Our unique swimming pool.




During the construction period of about five months, Mark sets a small trailer in the front yard. Some of his workers live there and protect the equipment and supplies. His commitment to quality is unequalled.



It's October and our venerable home is twenty-five years old. Within its walls, a family of five once lived. Now it is only we two. The children are adults and reside far away. My mother has been gone nine years.

In the silence, we hear their voices and see their precious bedrooms as they once were. The house contains abundant memories, punctuated by a precocious three year old, now a mature twenty-eight, who proclaimed this location as the 'sticker lot.' Very logical, given that it originally contained only such plants in abundance.



Walking from room to room, absent faces can almost be viewed. From distantly located family members to local friends, we've been continuously honored by the presence of so many people dear to us who've visited our home. The comfort cannot be contained or adequately measured.

In some ways, we've become this house. A bit older, rehabilitated here and there, altered in purpose by time and circumstance, still strong together. Positively worth celebrating.