Monday, February 18, 2013

The Bridge

A rural property, a double-wide, far from town on a winding road along a creek; the land was beautiful, the double-wide, a tear-down.  The listing was over a year old.  Potential buyers liked the location but hesitated after visiting.  The agent called us and asked for a clearing.  We drove up, crossed a simple bridge over the creek and wound up the drive to the “house.”  One could see that the landscaping had once been thoughtful and becoming.  Now it was simply ragged and overgrown. 


We stepped into the unit over some stacked cement blocks.  Inside the walls were moldy, the ceiling peeled open in places.  Odd thing – was the number of electrical outlets in the walls.  It became apparent from this and the number of hooks and chains in the ceiling that there had been grow lamps in the back rooms for growing pot.  The mold must have been from the humidity required for growing. 

More importantly, we felt the family dynamics pervading the home.  In the main bedroom we felt the presence of a grandmother.  A father and son had inhabited the house.  The grandmother was concerned about her grandson. 

We walked the property.  We were drawn to the bridge over the creek.  The young son’s energy was there.  We learned that, at 15, he had hung himself from the bridge when spurned by a neighbor girl across the road, 17 years before.  The bridge was the entrance to the property, the pall that potential buyers passed through before assessing the property.

So our work was centered on the bridge, freeing the soul of the boy and reuniting him with his grandmother who so wanted to protect him.

Within 6 weeks an offer was made and accepted.