Tim’s body was fighting two types of cancer when there was no vaccine for COVID. Like many people, our house was our cocoon. I found outlets from the seclusion in my work, baking bread, making pasta, and walking. Tim had no release from the monotony and seclusion other than the TV.

I worked at the kitchen counter while Tim watched TV behind me in our open-spaced kitchen, dining, and living space. We sat 5 feet apart.

When I had a conference call, I stopped the clock from chiming and made Tim turn off the TV.

Tim was depressed before COVID with his prognosis and his aches and pains. His world was closing in on him.

We had always loved to travel and we couldn’t, so we hatched a plan to buy a house in the Northern Neck of Virginia. It’s the top peninsula situated between the Rappahannock and Potomac Rivers.

My parents had settled there 20 plus years before, so we knew the landscape. It’s like going back in time where people stop their cars to wave at cars passing by and the grocer greats you by your first name. Plus, my mom lived there and we wanted to see her more as she grew older. And Tim’s kids and grandkids lived relatively nearby.

It was tricky working with a real estate agent and trying to avoid getting exposed to COVID, but we were careful as we perused beautifully staged houses off of little creeks and lived-in homes on busy rivers. I loved the beautifully staged, immaculate house in a neighborhood, but like Goldilocks, nothing suited Tim’s idea of his perfect river house.

Then, by chance, our realtor showed us a house off of a long sandy road that ended in the expansive front yard of a low-slung cabin-like structure.

The house was ramshackle. The front step was caved in and the living room consisted of a peeling dark brown sectional and a bookcase turned on end serving as a TV stand. It looked bleak to me.

We were greeted by a friend of the owner who was appraising nearby homes. He handed us Budweiser beer and invited us to sit on the couch. He told us how much he loved being there. His work area was set up on a round glass table by a window that looked out over a creek teeming with herons, ducks and geese. The front window looked out over a corn field. In the middle of a conversation about crab pots hanging over the dock and walks down the sandy road, he mentioned a water issue: a foot-high stream running through the basement.

We walked down the steep steps to investigate. I knew at that point it was farcical for us to consider thinking about the house as a viable option.

Tim saw the shuffle board table, the pool table, the bar, and the wide open space for kids to play and adults to gather. He said “this is it!”

We didn’t know how long COVID was going to be around and we didn’t know how long Tim was going to be around, so we did the sensible thing, we bought the house.

Broke Down Palace

Going to leave this broke-down palace
On my hands and my knees I will roll, roll, roll
Make myself a bed by the waterside
In my time, in my time, I will roll, roll, roll

In a bed, in a bed
By the waterside I will lay my head
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul

River gonna take me
Sing me sweet and sleepy
Sing me sweet and sleepy
All the way back back home
It’s a far gone lullaby
Sung many years ago
Mama, mama, many worlds I’ve come
Since I first left home

Going home, going home
By the waterside I will rest my bones
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul

Going to plant a weeping willow
On the banks green edge it will grow, grow, grow
Sing a lullaby beside the water
Lovers come and go, the river roll, roll, roll

Fare you well my honey
Fare you well my only true one
All the birds that were singing
Have flown except you alone.

Fare you well, fare you well
I love you more than words can tell
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul.

~Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter