Can you vision yourself standing in front of this old log house time after time? I can. I actually live across the street from this old log house. This old log house has watched over my husband’s family since the 1800s. I’m not actually sure it was that far back, but it could be. This old log house stands strong on Case Road in Nacogdoches, Texas, tucked within Central Heights ISD – where Blue Devil pride runs deep. It’s weathered, worn, and quietly beautiful, like an old soul that has seen it all, but never gave up.

This place isn’t just part of our history … it is our history.

Mimi and her siblings were raised in this house. I can see her sitting on the porch steps, surrounded by family after a reunion, with grandkids at her feet and a smile that said everything without needing words. That front porch has held generations of us – hugging, laughing, crying from a bee sting or wasps chasing us, growing. Somehow, this old log house brings us together with the family down the road each direction, near and afar.

The inside feels frozen in time. The red curtains still hang in the windows. A rusted lantern swings gently on the wall like it’s waiting to be lit again. An old saw blade is still mounted above the door, and there’s a scribbled “BLUE DEVILS” etched proudly where childhood left its mark. Every antique tucked in a corner tells a story, whispers a name, holds a memory.

The breeze still flows through the porch, from one end to the other, soft, and steady like a sigh of relief. I stood there looking through, just listening while I snapped a photo. In that silence, I swear I could hear the echoes – voices from the past, moments long gone but never forgotten.

This house … is more than wood and nails. It’s where my family’s roots are buried deep, where their stories began. A place that is held up through it all. No matter how far life takes us, I know we will always find a piece of ourselves right here.

Until next time…