I knew this house would be torn down, but it was still a sad moment when I unexpectedly arrived on demolition day. I visited the house earlier during an estate sale, and it felt like it had a happy history. I watched part of the demolition, went back again later to see more, and visited the little bit that remained last night.
It amazes me how long it takes for a house to be built, and yet how quickly they come down.
It was struck by the window on the remains of the second floor. It had a lace curtain on it, that was destroyed. I imagined someone picking it out, hanging it.
I imagine a family sitting in front of that fireplace; perhaps children expecting Santa to bring presents down the chimney. So sad to watch someone's memories being destroyed.
Last night, I went back one more time to see if anything was left. All that stood was the chimney. I can't believe that hours earlier a house stood there, and now nothing but the chimney was left.
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