The Old House

We finally sold the house that I pretty much grew up in. Moved in during the month of May 1965, I was 9 years old. So many memories, my family are the original owners. The neighborhood has had changes over the years,, even though the street is in good shape. My birthday was Monday, that's the day it sold. I was over there with the A/C guys, who had put two others there in the last 25 years or so, and I met the new owner. I explained what the house meant to me and my family. He shook my hand, and with sincerity, said his family would take care of The Old House.
What more can you do? I was the last Croom in the house, that meant something to me at least.
 Last week, one of the numbers on the front of the house flipped upside down for some reason. This as far as I know, had not happened in the 46 years we were in the house. Saying goodbye? Sorry to see you go? I believe in such signs. I want to believe in this one.
Before I left Monday, I flipped the number back to it's proper place, said my long goodbyes to a place that will always be home to me. It's so sad, but I'm lucky that I had so many happy years in that old house. I will miss it, we all will. I'll ride by on occasion, stop in front, and check on it, tell it how much we miss her.
Times flies Dad always said, after you turn fifty. Yes it does and it hurts.