It was time to tuck it away for the year and let it rest shrouded in the crystal toned silence that bathed the rooms. I felt a quietness that rang as clear as chimes of brass as I began my tour, checking things. The music of a more than a century of memories played tag with the dust motes hanging in the cool, stilled air. Was that a footstep on the wooden stair? Did I hear a pan rattling in the dark, far reaches of the kitchen? A faint echo of a remembered and loved voice teased my ears and an unsettled, uncanny, longing for days gone by filled my heart.
The air was thick with the presence of strong personalities of the former inhabitants, my husband's, and children's recent and ancient ancestors. As I, the interloper, closed the front door for one last time, I sense a movement from the corner of my eye; something was reflected in the wavy door glass. As I jerked the latch in a startled manner, the movement receded into the dim tattered curtains.
