Unexpected Visitors

On Monday night, I was asleep in bed when I heard the doorbell ring. I shook Tom to try and get him to answer it, but he was clearly out for the count, so I decided to get up, put on my bathrobe, and answer the door.

The two people at the door did not appear familiar, but they seemed friendly and even hopeful. The man looked to be in his mid 30s, and was wearing an old fashion three piece suit and carrying a derby. The woman was older, probably in her 70s, and heavyset, but pleasant looking. 

I invited them in, and they told me that they were hoping to see the house. I was puzzled for a moment, until they explained: "We built this house." And I realized they were Richard and Irene Rickard. I told them of course I was glad to show them around, and they eagerly stepped through the door.

What surprised them both was how much the house had not changed. Richard commented on the beautiful unpainted woodwork that runs through the house, and said he was "so glad no one every painted it." I told him that, in fact, someone had painted the back parlor and the dining room, but that Tom and I had stripped the wood. They both turned and smiled at the oriel lights on either side of the front door, and marveled that they are "still there." Richard said, "At that time, there was a lot of building going on here in Berkeley, and a lot of houses were slapped together. But we had an architect design this house - we wanted it to be something special."

We walked through the house and I pointed out how the house had changed. I told them, "when you built this house, there was only one outlet in each room. But nowadays, we have so many electronic devices and lights, we need multiple outlets." Richard was impressed at how we added outlets into the wainscotting without damaging it. He was also very impressed to see the hardwood floors that I am installing - he said "this was always our plan, to pull up the linoleum and replace it with real flooring." 

We went into the kitchen, and Tom joined us there. Irene commented that the linoleum on the sunroom floor is in fact the original, and that it used to run through the kitchen as well.  I showed her the linoleum in the closet, and how it does not match, and she couldn't remember why it was like that - "Maybe I'm wrong and that is the linoleum that was in the kitchen." They were also complementary about our choice of colors - I think some of the colors shocked them a little, but they said they liked how it made the rooms look so bright. 

We walked up the hall, and looked into each bedroom. They confirmed that the back bedroom was in fact originally the same shade of blue we had painted it, but the red in our bedroom seemed to surprise them. They also were amazed to see the bathroom completely unchanged, including the old push button toilet. 

We retraced our steps and went down the back stairs. They remembered that the stairs led to a square of flooring and a broad expanse of basement with a dirt floor, with two porcelain sinks for washing. We told them that those sinks were still in the house, and that we had installed the concrete and then built the downstairs rooms. They both seemed impressed by the bedroom and tiled bathroom, though confused by the media room ("Why do you want a room with no windows?")  Then we went out back, and they looked at the back house, and remembered how it had been a carriage house but they had quickly converted it to living space. Richard confirmed that the east windows were still the original carriage house windows, ad they both smiled at the wood divided light windows and said how much they loved those.

I invited them back inside, but they said they had taken quite enough of our time, and said warm goodbyes to us both, and we asked to be remembered to their daughter Irene, and to Irene's mother Mrs. Wiggins. Then they went down the alley and back to the street. I didn't walk them out, so didn't get to see what they were riding in.

Why is this story interesting? As Tom pointed out to me in the morning, the Rickards built the house in 1907. Richard died in 1917, and Irene died in 1959. Clearly, they hadn't stopped by (we didn't even talk about COVID and masks.) 

Okay, so it was a dream. But like some of my other nighttime experiences here in Chemoland, it was ABSOLUTELY REAL. I can still feel the way Richard squeezed my hand when we met, and see how he assisted Irene down the backstairs. I remember how Irene said, "it's amazing, we could practically move right back in and the house would be exactly the same." 

I wonder if everyone who visits this odd land has these types of experiences. Maybe it's a delusion, but I have to admit that part of me believes that I met the Rickards and showed them their old house. The details of their visit are still clear and strong, even though they were here 3 days ago. Most of the time, when I dream, the drams fade quickly, and within about an hour I am left mostly with impressions. I remember Richard and Irene the way I remember visits from other friends and family members. 

When we first did the restoration of the house, we went and tracked down the urn where the four members of the family are interred. We brought flowers and spent time with them there. Maybe this was a reciprocal visit to us. 

Whatever it was - it was good to see them. Maybe they'll stop by again sometime.