One day last week I was walking to the curb to bring in the trash cans. There was a guy stepping out of a muscle car. He looked at me and said he used to live in my house.
"How long ago?"
"About 50 years."
We walked around the yard. I explained changes we'd made and some of the history of ownership (as I understand it) since he'd left, and etc.This is, after all, a house which is over a 100 years old.
It was interesting hearing his memories of being a kid in the spaces I've come to know so well over the last 20 or so years. I hope that after I'm gone future inhabitants of this place that I love have similar encounters.