Today, I awake to the suspense of a lifetime, something, that will literally change my life forever, as I write this blog post, I’m still awaiting the news with a cup of freshly brewed coffee from a single serving coffee inside a tea bag with pippin hot water in my Seattle coffee cup, that was given to me some years ago by a family member.
My life’s legacy came upon a man who went all out, gung-ho to make life as easy as possible for me before he passed away in the early stages of the 1990’s.
My Grandfather was the man who made it all happen, than the unexpected happened, he passed away of a heart attack, his second in life, which took him from his family, friends and all, including his four beloved grandsons.
But today, there’s no magic or wonders of the world, his legacy left behind was something he cherished with a story to be told among the masses and more.
Just a few hours ago, before I started penning this story, I had no idea where things were going to go until I was about ready to leave the house for some much needed fresh fall air with a daps of rain showers filling the city streets with puddles of water and more – what happens next the ultimate fate of a lifetime takes place, the house that my grandfather left me had been sold in a foreclosure auction earlier in the morning under a sheriff sale.
I was about to live and start my day abroad the town and city I’ve lived in since childhood – the ultimate, I came face to face with the buyer, a stranger for the I have never met, is ultimately the new owner of the place that I have lived in for more than thirty years since, high school and my high school graduation.
How I will survive, I don’t know or where I would go next is something to be said for a Writer and blogger like myself who enjoys working from home and a once-while-trot out of the house into the wilds of life and reality – with no place to call my own any longer, I will have to deal with life has it goes on, literally, I’m my own, “Designated Survivor,” as I would say.
In a way, “I call it a piece of butter cup with a dash of English scotch from a vintage bottle of 1903, straight out of Compton’s best kept secret in town.”
What happens next is a story to be told – “it’s only the facts of life and life will go on, but – it’s one helleva scary road to take, it’s really nothing leading me to Kansas and the yellow brick road and the wicked witch of Salem’s Lot!