Fifty-eight years of marriage. To mark my parent's wedding anniversary, I drove them to a house.
While newlyweds, they had resided briefly in this house. It's where I first lived.
We didn't know the owners of the house. I considered knocking on the door. Perhaps the owners would allow Mom and Dad to go inside for a nostalgic visit.
While the car idled on the street, I took in details of the property. Paint peeled on shutters. The lawn was unkempt. Bushes grew out of control. Pine needles cluttered the gutter.
An assumption popped into my mind: The owners of the property, because they were neglecting the upkeep, might not be amicable toward strangers.
Could this assumption be wrong? Perhaps an elderly couple lived inside the house. Given their age, they might have fallen behind on maintenance. These people could be delighted to show us around.
I pressed my foot on the gas peddle and drove away.
The cliche is true: Appearances matter.
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