First Thursday House

I visit the sick and housebound of the parish on the first Thursday and the first Friday of each month. My route is a winding cross-cross of the parish. It takes me past this old house.
Each month as I pass, I take a moment to think of the people who lived here — and their story which is silent now. The house is very small in comparison with its new neighbours but the families were larger when this house was occupied. Noisier, too, I'm sure, with chat and news and cooking.
Year on year the ivy seems to be taking a stronger grip and the hole in the roof gets bigger. Time is taking its toll on the structure and on the story.
Somehow its seems the mirror the reality of the people whom I have the privilege of visiting in these days.