Why the Pink Palace at Pyme

We used to drive by the Pink Palace, as it came to be known among us for its prior owners' surprising paint choices and the delight they brought our daughters (and perhaps our daughters alone), on the way to the lake. The house had been for sale for too long, and every time we left town my husband or I would say "We could always buy the Pink Palace."

The Pink Palace sits at the only stop light in the town where K's Dad was born and lived before leaving for college, which was also, coincidentally, the hometown of my youth. Dad's family had been there before there was a town proper, and they'd bought a significant swath of property up by Seminary Hill from the McMasters before they themselves divided and sold lots. Dad had been collecting family history documents for years, though he discouraged K from his dream of rebuying Grandma's house (built on part of the original tract of land). "Don't romanticize Grandma's house," he said, before reminding us that lines for gas lamps still ran through the house. Fine, we could always buy the Pink Palace.

Dad had been living with cancer for two years last summer when we had a frank conversation about the near future. A dream-of-a-lifetime trip to Italy behind, what would be ahead? And K said to Mom: "Well, we could always buy the Pink Palace." Glad that I wasn't trying to sell them on my dream of opening a L'Eau Vive franchise in a church that was also for sale, Mom and Dad were in.

The research and restoration and furnishing would take time. But in the next months, the Pink Palace brought us much joy and many surprises.