It Was Somebody’s Home

How many times have you seen an old home and wondered about the people who lived there? Honestly, that is one of the recurring conversations I have with myself. And for some reason, it’s not just the big, beautiful houses that get my attention. Visually, I am drawn to small cabins, old shacks, log homes…and imagining the impoverished lifestyles of my ancestors.

No, I didn’t grow up on a farm. But my parents did, so I’ve heard the stories. My mother, the youngest of thirteen children, told me that she didn’t realize how poor she was as a child until much later, because everyone was poor during the Great Depression. My father grew up in the hills of North Georgia in a home that looked similar to this one, not uncommon for the time and location. He stated that he went to college to get out from behind a mule and plow.

I took a photo of this cabin at George Ranch, near Rosenberg, Texas. No one was living there. It is well maintained as a historical site. Back in my studio, I imagined the people who could have lived in this shotgun house. I knew there had to be a woman shelling butter beans on the front porch. There must have been some chickens running around, providing eggs and meat in the pot for a special meal. I imagined the man in the back, hammering or fixing something on a worktable. And there probably were children running around barefoot. (But they were moving too fast in my imagination to capture them here!)

It was Somebody’s Home! And I hope it was filled with love. For, whether one is living in poverty or riches, if a home has love, it can withstand the storms, sure to come! This one did.