The Roland House - Built 1995

This is the house built for me during the time I

lived with Ken and Honey Gail.

The living room was too small to accommodate a sofa. It contained two chairs and a fireplace. I had big plans for that fireplace. It was the only source of heat the first few years in my Roland house. My original plan was to cut wood off my own land. I marched down to Home Depot and bought a chain saw, but I realized, after getting it home and unwrapped, life as a wood-chopper might be a bit complicated. I tried to get son-in-law, Ken, to put the saw together for me and teach me to use it. He wouldn't. I tried to get son-in-law, Ron, to do the honors. Same refusal. They had no faith in my ability to cut down trees without cutting off a leg.

Karen came over from Nashville and put the saw together ... showed me how to mix this much oil into that much gas ... showed me how to start the thing. All Right! I was in business, but, well, no, not quite. The first time I tried to start the saw on my own, I discovered I wasn't strong enough to pull the cord hard enough to get the motor purring. Damn! I had to buy wood from a neighbor for a few years. Then, Ken Blankenship installed a butane heater and the fireplace no longer claimed my attention.

The chain saw was wrapped and stored carefully in my shed. One day Ken came down and asked to borrow it. Of course I said yes, and of course I never saw the thing again. How big an idiot did my son-in-law think I was? He had several saws of his own. He had never borrowed anything from me before and he has never borrowed anything from me since. He just wanted to "borrow" my chain saw. Uh-huh. The truth is, his wife told him to get down there and get that saw away from me before I did manage to get it started and do myself bodily harm.

I loved the kitchen. However, it wasn't much fun to cook solitary meals after years of feeding five hungry children three times a day. When I was a young mother, tied by invisible strings to the kitchen stove, I vowed that once my youngest was grown and gone my cook stove would be colder than my refrigerator. I thought I was kidding, but those words came true. My cook stove grew cold. Sundown at the Roland house was the loneliest time of day. I'd have given all I owned to have my five come tumbling in the back door again, tired and dirty from a hard day's play, wanting their supper and wanting their mama.

This corner of my tiny bedroom was a work station. However, I did very little writing here. It's only now, many years later, that I once again feel an urge to string words together and weave them into stories.

And this corner was for sleeping. I cherished this bed because Joey gave it to me. She and I have switched and swapped many material items over the years, as well as feelings from the heart.

I loved the Roland house. It sheltered me securely and peacefully for several years, but they were lonely years ... lonelier than I admitted even to myself. I was simply marking time, waiting for the grave. My life had no real purpose.

I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis while living here and I spent many months in agony before doctors matched me up with the right drug. I lost my strength, my youth, whatever beauty I once possessed and even my pride as the ravages of this disease brought me to my knees. More than once I crawled on the floor from bathroom to bed because my legs refused to function.

It was a long trip.

It was a dark time.

Phillip found me just as I was recovering from the first terrible onslaught of RA. He has an autoimmune disease too. Multiple Sclerosis. A hundred times worse than my illness.

Many years have passed since I left this house behind. I've never looked back. My life has a purpose now. Phillip needs me. Our love grows stronger each day. We're blessed to have found each other.