Used and abused … will I ever find love again ?

Used and abused … will I ever find love again?  Oh, I don’t want to sound like a whiner. I have enjoyed the best of times. I had wonderful years when I was loved and cared for.  I have more than enough memories of laughter and hosting tender moments.  I have seen the joy in young children’s eyes and the never ending miracle of parent’s doing what they do best – parent.  I have also been witness to tears and sorrow (another important component of a well rounded life).

My strongest two memories are they day they came and the day they left.  Upon their arrival, my life began.  As I watched then take one last look at me, before driving off, I had no idea that moment would mark my spiral into misuse, disrepair and neglect.

Others around me had whispered that long distance relationships rarely turn out well.  Good intentions are often hard to fulfill from afar.  Life does get in the way.  Sometimes refusing to let go results in calamities that are difficult to resolve. It is safe to say my existence and condition today are a far cry from what any could have dreamed a few short years ago.

I can still remember the day ( December 2004 ) when Joe and Cindy pulled into the driveway. It was love at first sight.  They came through the front door and Cindy rushed from room to room, excitedly telling Joe about new colors and little changes she wanted to make.  Joe, quite the patient fellow, followed her in her journey, making notes and beaming.  When Cindy declared, “And we can put our Christmas tree right there in the corner by the fireplace”, I realized, they did not just own me … I was going to be their HOME!

I wasn’t a baby mind you, when Joe and Cindy showed up, I was almost 50 years old.  I lived in a quiet neighborhood and there were only 4 other houses just like me.  That’s right, I was the biggest model, featuring 5 floors.  I was the proud product of a local builder and architect.  When I was born,  the Yankees and Dodgers were battling for the supremacy of baseball.  There was a brand new fast food chain opening it’s doors ( I have heard that they actually have golden arches).

Americans were coming home from wars and neighborhoods were springing up surrounding cities across the country.  My design was grand.  I had 3 bedrooms and a full bath on my top floor.  One level down, I had this great open kitchen and dining area adjacent to a family room that was complete with a fireplace. Just off that level, I had this great screened porch ( with skylights no less ).  The next level down was the owners haven.  There was this great den/library/sitting room and a master suite area complete with a full bath.  Below  this level there was a full basement and one level down there was another full basement.  I was big and roomy and ready for lots of people.

Now my first 50 years had been blessed with wonderful owners. Family moments were etched in my memory ( and scrawled on closet walls and door jams ). Who knew that portions of my existence would be used to mark the growth of children, each new inch gained noted and dated with a #2 pencil.

Cindy and Joe were such a delightful couple. She was a spunk and energy and ideas and Joe was the handyman.  They went over me from top to bottom and took an empty house, filled it with love and made a home.  Holiday parties, birthdays and get togethers were shared again and again.  Glasses were raised and toasts made, penny ante poker and VHS movie nights took place.  I was a happy place.  Anytime something stopped working, Joe replaced it.  Anytime something got tired looking, Cindy told Joe and they changed it.  Sharing in caring was a family affair.

Then one day Joe sat Cindy down and told her that the country needed him to move to another base.  Their time in Maryland was drawing to a close.  They talked about what to do.  They could not part with me.  “It has been such a great house, we can’t just sell it.  What if we want to come back to Maryland when we retire?  Let’s just find someone that will rent the house while we are gone.”

With that decision,  I started down the road of misuse and abuse.  Oh Joe and Cindy thought they had found the perfect solution.  They had no idea that the people moving in would treat me so badly.  They did not know that my fine porch would become a kennel for pit bulls.  They could not have dreamed that I would be battered and beaten and knicked up and scuffed.  In their wildest dreams, they never could have seen the hell and horror I would go through.

Oh, when they discovered how I was being treated, they took action.  It took time and money, but finally I was empty again.  I was empty and shell of the house I used to be.  Still have great bones, but the aftermath of the terror-tenants has left me a bit battered.  Cindy and Joe came back and hired workman and had me re-painted.  They scrubbed and scoured and did their best to clean me up.  They brought the same love and compassion back.  It may be hard to see now.  I’m a little bit older and it may take a good imagination to see the joy that can still be found inside. It’s here. I have not moved. I am still in the same location on the same quiet street in the midst of the same wonderful neighborhood.  Come to think of it, that fast food place is still up the street beneath those now famous golden arches.

There is a for sale sign in the front yard and a sentri lockbox on the door.  Cindy and Joe are patiently waiting for the next folks to move in and experience the miracle of making a home.  In this market, prices are difficult to set and always negotiable.  If you read this and are looking for more than a house,  drive by,  take a look…I may be used and abuse, but I sure can be a home.

217 Coronet, Linthicum Heights, MD

         If you would like to see the home,  you have two choices depending on your situation.  If you have an agent, give them a call and they will take you there.  If you do not have an agent, give us a call (John MacArthur/Lourdes Tudela 301-509-5111 ) and we will make sure you have a chance to see the house.  Either way, you hold the answer to the question posed…will I ever find love again?