Katherine Low, Toronto
The House on Drake Street
Number 3. Built in 1876, this house has both witnessed and been subject to many changes – it doesn’t look quite the same now, but I think it looks pretty good for 141.
When my parents bought the house with two very small girls in tow, my grandmother cried. It was, to put it kindly, rather neglected. It had become a monster fixer-upper and my parents weren’t exactly handy. But they loved it. And through the years, they brought its original features back to life, instilling in me a lifelong love of heritage.
The house became the fifth member of my family. It has its quirks, as every house does, but this house has a soul. We were lucky to live there – I knew it then and, boy, do I ever know it now.
But it’s time to move on. The house will soon be sold, ready to start a new chapter with another family, who I hope will love it as much as we have. Because, of course, it was never really ours – it stood long before we arrived and I hope it will continue to stand long after we go. We’ll pack up 31 years of memories, bid adieu to the pets spending eternity in the backyard (RIP Socks!) and close the front door one last time.
I’ll miss that house. And I hope it misses us a little, too.
My Ontario, my home, will always be 3 Drake Street.
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