August 9th & 10th 2016
Yorktown Heights, NY
My contacts around Sandy Hook are growing and so both the proverbial tide is changing as well as the real tide. Both are good news for me and soon I will be able to re-launch and continue my journey. In the meantime, I’m hanging out here in Yorktown Heights trying my best to be useful.
When I was a Real Estate Broker, I got to see a lot of interesting homes, but not just from the outside, for the inside. Walking into someone’s home and being granted permission to explore it unrestricted is a real gift. Not even family members get to see a home like we would see it. The owners, when available, would tell us about when they first saw the house, share with us everything they love about the house and often, why it is they need or want to sell. Sometimes that last answer is simple; Work, Growing or Shrinking Family, but other times its complicated; from health reasons to divorce and of course, death.
However, every once in awhile you enter a home where you don’t know what has happened and all you have are clues left behind. The person may have already passed away, already moved or is simply gone as happens with foreclosed homes. It these homes that pique my interest for I don’t know the story and the inner me, the storyteller, is craving that information.
Today, I got to accompany Arlene on a real estate listing she is taking in. It was a vacant home going into Foreclosure. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, this house immediately intrigued me. It had unique features on the exterior that are not found in a typical home. I was excited to get inside, but unsure of what we would find as it had suffered some serious damage.
This outing reminded me of another house I accompanied Arlene on and when I looked it up, it was exactly one year ago to the very day that I accompanied her on another unique property. When I had seen that home, I had come back and wrote about it on Facebook. Click Here to read and see more of that house and the short story:
Back at today’s home, Arlene unlocked the door and we went inside. As I knew from the exterior, this home was unique, built not by an architect drawing boxes, but by an artist, a visionary. The home had a distinct Frank Lloyd Wright feel to it, though it wasn’t, the person who designed this was most certainly a fan of Mr. Wright. From it’s massive double-sided arched stone Fireplace with an additional Wood Stove on one side, to the sunken living room, arched window looking out over the reservoir, which was actually a large glass sliding door encased in an arch. At the end of a hall, was the Master Bedroom and off that, the large silo structure I saw on the outside was the Master Bath. The kitchen had a large island in the center and was accompanied by the fourth fireplace. Heading outside on the secluded 
grounds there was an in-ground swimming pool that had been built into the side of a rock cliff. I am sure I could make out a waterfall feature, though like the house, the pool hadn’t seen love in a long time.
As I walked through the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and walls, trying my best to breath through the musty dampness and pungent smell of mold that hung in the air, I could envision a time when this home was filled with life. I imagined the owners first day moving in; the parties, the happy moments, the sad moments. This home had stories to tell, but without anyone here, those stories would soon be forgotten. As we were leaving, a single box on the island in the kitchen caught my eye. I had walked by it a dozen times already, but this time I stopped; I looked at it and opened it.
This home had been cleaned out. That is to say, someone had come in and removed all the furniture personal belongings. We’re not sure if this happened before or after the roof began to leak but the home wasn’t cleaned, just emptied of its contents, all of its contents, except for three boxes. One sat on the kitchen island, one in the garage and one in the living room. Here I am staring into a box full of pictures and letters from a time long ago. Whoever had left behind these three boxes, for whatever reason they left behind these three boxes, they left behind the story. The story I now desire to write.
I’d been looking for something to do as I await the tides to change and I found it. I’m hoping to uncover the story of the person who lived in this house. How did she get here, where did she come from and what was her life like and ultimately, what happened to her that this house she obviously loved has fallen into such a sad state. Perhaps I am just romanticizing on a notion, but I believe that there is an interesting story here that needs to be told and I want to tell it.
Day 39 Done
