Friday, February 22, 2013
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.
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