The homes of dead people

A cousin of mine reportedly said, “I can’t imagine living in a house where other people have lived!”

I don’t know if she really said this, as I heard the story secondhand. But it stuck in my mind because every home I’ve owned has been lived in by other people, and a few people have died in them as well. So far, this has not bothered me in the least.

I’m used to living in the homes of dead people.

The first house I bought was owned by a woman named Ruby. She was still living when I bought it, but she wasn’t doing very well. She had outlived two husbands in the house, so I suppose there’s a better-than-even chance at least one of them died there.

Ruby finally had to move to a nursing home after she showed up at the neighbor’s door a few times without clothes. As she had no children, the responsibility for finding her more suitable accommodations fell to her niece. I have no children, so I expect my niece, Isabelle, might be performing this duty for me sometime in the future. (She recently turned 18 and has that to look forward to.)

My only other real home is the one I’ve been living in with my husband, Peter. The neighbors say “three witches” lived in the house before the man we bought it from. I don’t know if this is true, and no one seems to know much about them.

The full article is available in our e-Edition. Click here to subscribe.