Nestled behind the bare winterish-looking trees sits this abandoned farmhouse in rural Kansas. I really wanted to get a little closer to peek inside the windows, to walk through the old front door, and to step back in time to a life that was lived in this old house. But, alas, #trespassing. I can recall quiet Sunday afternoons as a young girl. My dad would announce ... "grab a coat; we're going for a ride!" We'd pile into the family car with no electronic devices, toys, or earbuds to pacify us. With just the company of siblings and parents, we'd set out for a country road adventure. It was not uncommon for us to stumble onto an abandoned old home where we would wander through ... each of us lost in our own thoughts ... silently taking in the dusty and drafty remnants of a life once lived in an old house in the country. Who lived here? What became of the family? When and why did they leave? Where did they go? So many questions. So much wondering. Were we trespassing then? Probably so. I suppose my love for old homes was born from an illegal activity that my parents forced upon me. Does that make me a bad person? I don't think so. I'm just a lover of old, abandoned homes thanks to the Sunday afternoon jaunts with my family. While my walk-through days are pretty much over (again ... #trespassing), I will always stop the car on a quiet Sunday afternoon on a quiet country road and imagine the life that once was lived in what is now an abandoned old home. #oldhome #theresnoplacelikehome #countryroadstakemehome #Kansas #MondayMemories #thisoldhouse
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