Yesterday we were at the new house and since the surveyors had recently marked the property lines we took a little walk in the woods. Our house sits on what used to be an old farm or logging road so there’s a definite spot where the vegetation hasn’t overgrown. We started there and headed towards the line.
We got several dozen yards into the walk and found part of an old truck carcass. We didn’t spot an engine or transmission system so we’re fine with leaving it there to finish its rusting process. Before you peg us for total hicks, it isn’t something you can even remotely see from the house or yard. And, besides, how do you get it out of there? We walked a little more and then found another part of the carcass. I joked that they were riding down the road; the truck went off the road and then exploded. In actuality it is hard to know if the two carcasses are even from the same vehicle. A more accurate history is we were probably walking through an ancient burial ground for big old trucks (hehe). As we were checking out the second set of dead truck bones, I pointed to an object through the trees.
The object through the trees turned out to be an old tent with a plastic baby carriage parked out front. We had stumbled on the “fort”. The better-half unzipped the tent and then we both got really silent. No dead bodies or anything scary like that. What we did find were some sleeping bags, a lantern, some books and other toys. The only things we know about the former owners of the house is that they had kids; they are in the midst of a nasty divorce and all the proceeds from the house (after paying off 2 loans) goes to their divorce attorney so they can fight over it. We have already talked about how hard it must be for the kids to go through the divorce which has included leaving their home and moving to another state. Now we know they had to leave their fort behind. And, the kid’s fort still has some of their stuff in it.
When I was a kid, my grandparents owned a beach house on the New Jersey shore. Typically when my family spent time there we had the whole attic space to ourselves. The space was divided into a sleeping area for my parents and a sleeping area for me and my sister. My dad had given us the keys, so to speak, to a secret compartment in the attic floor. He had stored things in there when he was a child. We loved the secret compartment and would leave things in there so that we’d have the thrill of discovery the next time we were there. When my grandparents sold the beach house, they unknowingly sold our walkie-talkies. My sister and I still talk about how those walkie-talkies were in the floor of the attic. I can’t imagine what the kids think about leaving their fort behind. Hopefully, they’ll come to think of that fort fondly and not as yet another thing their parents made them leave behind.