Today, the family got word that the Coffin House on Martin Road was no longer. A fire in the early morning ravaged the home that my grandparents lived for so many years. I haven’t driven by and refuse to look at the paper or news. I rather remember it in my mind. I feel so bad for the family who is now without their home. They reached out to me when they first moved in and shared with them some of what I knew of the house. With a heavy heart our prayers go out to them who have lost so much.
The house was a treasure box of beautiful warm memories for me. The house would have turned 200 years old in 2019. Our family only lived there for 40 years but I dare say that they were some of the best memories, I’ll ever have.
The front door had an antique door bell that you turned.
My cousins and I in the backroom where we played for hours.
My grandma lo… I actually almost fell straight through this ceiling from the second floor.
Nobody told me that the vent was missing in a duct in a room I was staying. I woke the whole house up with my leg dangling through the ceiling!
Many Many hours spent outside. The little porch behind the table we use to play house in.
Grandpa’s shrubs were always just right.
Almost every Sunday my mom and dad would take me over after breakfast. I remember it blowing and cold and we would sit in the living room. Grandpa would show us what he was working on in the studio off from the living room. Then we would chat and watch old movies or one of grandma’s cooking shows.
Grandma always had roses along the driveway.
The gallery out back…
The pool where we spent tons of hours. The story goes that my dad and Scott wanted a pool so they started to dig and dig… Once the hole got too big, my grandparents decided to put the pool in.
My great grandma Lily would lure us out of the pool for story time under the apple tree.
I can close my eyes and see the big Christmas Tree in the backroom and hear my grandparents singing the Old Songs…
We are lucky… We had treasured memories…