I never knew the previous owner of our house. She passed away before I knew her name. But I know from how our neighbors talk about her is that she was a good one to know. She was kind, compassionate, and was the type of person who inspired stories, one of them being that she had a pet vulture who waited to be fed in the morning.
I never knew the previous owner. But I hope she is happy with who has her house now.
We have changed a little, have ideas for more, but there are things I want to keep in her memory.
Like the tulips she collected. I learned that she loved tulips, planting ones that I have never seen in my whole life. Some with fiery petals, some with jagged petals, some with colors that shift in the sunlight. I’m sure she would have told me what they were called these variations, someone who is passionate about things like tulips, will tell you about their biology, where they got the name, why they love them so.
So I can’t part with them. I never knew the previous owner, but the idea of undoing her work, erasing what she saw, seems sad to me. So I have looked over their return, polished their garden beds, and have cut them for vases, and I wonder if she would be happy of such a ritual.
I never knew the previous owner, but I want the birds to know they are cared for with us too.
She left behind an arsenal of bird feeders empty, an imprint of the last time she came out and filled the feeders for her avian company. So, I fill them. I catalog the visitors, refill their treats, and allow the squirrels to steal some for themselves. I am sure she would be fine with this.
I never knew the previous owner, but I feel like she would be happy knowing that her home is a foundation for a young couple. That her house is full of laughter. That the kitchen smells of coffee in the morning and a tasty dinner in the evening. That there is thrifted artwork on the walls. That plants are everywhere. That its windows are always open on a nice Spring day. That birdsong fills the mornings. That nights are peaceful. That the moonlight filters in still. That it is collecting memories still.
I never knew my neighbor, but I am sure she would be happy hearing that.