I knew the minute I opened my eyes that morning I was in for an adventure. . . .It was one of those things that you just know and spend the day in anticipation until the surprise is revealed.
It was a sunny but cold Christmas afternoon as we strolled the streets of Colonial Williamsburg. . .with no special destination. . . .until we neared the Peyton Randolph home. . . .A little voice inside my head said, "This is it. . . .There's something special here for you to see."
We visited the home--upstairs and down. . . .the garden house. . . .the stable. . . .the grounds.
The guided tour was almost over. . . .Did I hear wrong? . . .Did I miss it?
Then. . . .there it was. . . .the laundry behind the Randolph home. . . .I knew this was it. . . .I knew this was what I had been waiting for. . . .
Serene. . . .sunlight flooding through the window. . . .the room drew me in.
Lagging behind the others, I found myself alone in the calm and quiet of the long abandoned laundry. . . .in another time and place. . . .where tubs and buckets are scrubbed and waiting to be filled once more. . . .
Where Light and Shadow literally danced around the room. . . .From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw someone move. . . .Ghosts of the past played with my senses. . . .
What was that? . . .Did someone whisper something behind me? . . .I turned to answer. . . .No one in the room but myself. . . .although I could swear I heard someone laugh as I shook my head in disbelief. . . .
And there! . . .Was it another shadow. . . .or did something move by the fireplace? . . .I nervously giggled. . . .And who did I feel just now so close to me? . . .I stood very still for a time. . . .smiling from ear to ear. . . .feeling alone. . . .yet, not so alone. . . .
The minutes ticked off. . . .the only sound I heard now was the click of the camera as I tried to capture these special moments. . . .alone in the past. . . .with only my imaginings. . . .or were they?
Way too soon, it was time to leave. . . .my active imagination had run rampant long enough. . . .Afterall, it had to have been my mind playing tricks on me, didn't it? . . .Others waited for me to rejoin them in the 21st century. . . .I stepped outside and started down the narrow path.
Then. . . .on a whim. . . .I quickly glanced back through the door. . . .and stared--again--in disbelief. . . .
. . .from my farmhouse to yours. . . .