Crux

 The house was empty.  There are all kinds of analogies and maybe a metaphor or two that could be rendered.  

It stood where it has been since 1885, when built.  It had been a house and home to the young man's family.  It was at the end of the old road.  

The world turns.  The young man is older.  His son is the young man now.  And they stood at that old house.    It was empty.

Painted another color and remodeled to accommodate a small restaurant, it was gone but the house remained.  

Early evening shaded the house, with the help of two sycamore trees and a tall pine.  

Father and son had revisited and enjoyed some genealogy at the family cemetery.  History.  They remembered those folks were alive and going about all the aspects of their lives.  They were the present, now past.  

And the house?  Empty?  The Dad's mind was full of memories.  He regaled his son as best he could to make the memories live.  

They marched to the porch and Dad peered inside.

  

There were a couple of lights, presumably for security, and he could see the changes and remember before.  And the overwhelming feeling was still comfort and security.  

Perhaps it was recollections of staying and visiting his GreatGrandma.  She told stories of family long ago.  Anecdotes abounded about his Father and a place gone.  It was found again in her tales of bravery and everyday living.  He also never left without a bag of peanut butter cookies.

 The pair had dinner at a place just a few steps down the alley from the house.  So much new and so many people, the alley faced east and he sometimes watched the sunrise out back.  The view of the ballpark where his bro had played was blocked now.  

After dinner, they cut through the side of the house.  One more view was a message.

The space past the parlor was where Grandma sat and held court.  All day people came now and then to chat.  A light shone over the place where her chair sat.  Empty, it was full of memories and the spirit of love and strength which lived on.  Whatever the fate of the house, those impressions remained.

Content of character the Dad learned from his Dad.  His Dad learned same from Grandma and his Great Aunt and Great Uncle.  Dad has passed it to his kids.  

Just then, a flock of ravens, nested in the pine tree, greeted the Father and Son.  The birds talked to them and the Son gave them some chips.  

We stand at a precioice of change.  Ravens are symbolic of making something from void.

With the teachings of family, we carry on with something miraculous from something monumental.