Aiguës vivès

Boy, what a difference a day makes. Yesterday, we moved into another AirBnB (in Aiguës-vives) and it knocked the wind from our sails. The house had it's charm, but felt too isolated, too tired and worn, too dusty. The a/c didn't work, the propane tank for the gas stove was empty, and the windows were all shuttered making the house dark, musty and hot. How could we spend the next couple of months here?? Although I had numerous texts of reassurances from the host, I could still feel the shift... depression and dread starting to fill the space where excitement and enthusiasm used to reside. The host must have sensed the shift as well, because he texted that he and his wife were on the way to the house, driving from Narbonne (where they live), 30 miles away. They filled the propane tank, brought new towels for the kitchen, and batteries for the a/c remote. They were joyous, bubbly and gracious. They both spoke fairly good English (as well as Portuguese, French and Spanish). They explained the home is owned by a very old man who has fallen ill--and they help him as much as possible because they said, "he has a big, beautiful heart." They told us he had remodeled the home himself years ago and built most of the furnishings himself (which is remarkable given their craftsmanship). Marie swooned over Murphy and high-fived me when it was her suggestion that led our husbands to finally finding the missing key: "It takes a woman you see, this is our victory." And it was a victory.... suddenly the house felt like an undiscovered gem, like opening up a beloved summer house that's been in your family for generations. The house whose old rugs and furnishings are worn and dusty, but which no one would dream of replacing--because the stories they've been a part of create a tapestry of memories. Boy, what a difference a day makes.