Hub is from Wright, just a few miles up the river from Waterloo, Alabama. During the seventies and eighties, we were there a lot. Driving down Waterloo's main street, we would go by a beautiful old house, empty, abandoned, like a strong Southern lady standing lonely after her children were gone. Sometimes, we would stop and gaze over the fence and imagine grand parties and dressed-up gentle folk sitting on the front porch. We had no idea who owned the house. I wanted to live there, but Hub insisted that it wasn't for sale, and even if it was for sale, we couldn't afford it.
It has a new life now.
I still want to live there.