This really shouldn't be a surprise, that I would end up loving the same house I saw when I was here last fall. The same tiny, village place with the sunny stone facade and the tiny diamond window. It's tucked under a 12th Century clock tower, which looms like a much-taller big brother. It's a tiny, rare gem, unlike any others, stuck as it has been for some 900 years on one end of a happy little town in the shadow of the clanging monument. Funny thing, when I was in the house today, the clock clanged, croaked really, just twice when it was four o'clock. A clock that can't tell time? It sounds like a grandma clanging her wash tub to announce lunch to grandpa. Clang? Bang? Clank? Clunk? Oh well, if you were 900 years old you'd sound pretty off too.
After hundreds of houses pored over on internet sites, dozens of towns considered, studied and many written off, then 14 houses seen and considered thoroughly on this trip to Duras . . .
This one wants me. I think I want it too. Are you listening, Grandpa? Lunch!
I've got a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I am so happy that the two of you found each other! It's a love story come true!
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