“The Spanish Revival is an architectural style that became common in the American West and Southwest in the early 20th century. Spanish Revival architecture tends to feature low-pitched, red-tile roofs, stucco walls, rounded arches, and an asymmetrical façade” (Study.com).

I found a street view of my favorite house in Preston Hollow: a Spanish Revival on the corner of Glendora and Tulane. I was surprised and pleased that the house had not been torn down.

The house is in the “Golden Corridor” of North Dallas, a desirable place to live in the 1960s if one was a successful businessman, politician, or ordinary person with enough money. The Corridor was egalitarian—open to anyone, except minorities.

The Spanish Revival was a minority; there were no other houses like it in the neighborhood. It was simpler, darker, almost spooky in its disregard for adornment. Its walls were plain stucco with no shutters around the windows. I rarely, if ever, saw a light inside when I rode past it on one of my nighttime bicycle rides.

In my mind, the Spanish Revival’s plain exterior belied an interior rich with carved wood, Mexican rugs, and Native American wall hangings. I pictured a long hall leading to a bedroom furnished with bed and bureau, rocking chair, reading lamp, and crucifix on the wall.

When I think of the Spanish Revival, I feel at peace. Not everything is destroyed; not even me when I die.