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When you were young you bought your dream house. It was an old, sprawling victorian. It needed work, but you loved the neighborhood and really thought you could restore it
When you were young you bought your dream house. It was an old, sprawling victorian. It needed work, but you loved the neighborhood and really thought you could restore it
Every summer, every break, on weeknights and weekends: you sanded, painted, watched videos about tiling, tried to find original molding for the trim. You made your life into fixing that house
You replaced the roof, updated the windows, tried to keep the original wood siding. The house was an endless pit of resources but you always loved it. You raised your children there. The house became part of who you were
But over the years you couldn't deny the cracks in the walls and the ceilings that didn't go away with paint and filler. The foundation was broken, build in sandy, treacherous soil
You need to have the house raised up, the foundation completely replaced, and then, maybe it will be ok: but the soil...
And the neighborhood isn't what you thought it was. You never quite got along with the neighbors and all the other houses around are suffering something similar
Your friends say sell the house to someone else, let them deal with the problems. All you can think of is yourself, looking at the house, dreaming of maybe one day making it right
Some of the young people and new buyers see the truth: it might be better to gut it and completely renovate, for those who like the style. Others want to tear it down and build something new
How you want to change the house is shaped by living in it and feeling welcome, by nostalgia and the memory of a dream never achieved.
People outside can see it for what it is.
People outside can see it for what it is.
that's classics.
