The House

The house is two stories high and painted pastel green.  It has a front porch and a back porch also.  I can see it so clearly in my head like it was just yesterday that I was running up and down the stairs carrying boxes full of possessions that didn’t belong to me.  Belonging to someone else.  Someone who has gone and will never be back.  1

    I remember back then when all of us would gather in the living room and wrestle on the ground.  And then play twister and get in positions that were so painful yet so funny that you just couldn’t help but laugh until you stomach hurt and you were crying with joy.  Then we would all sit down in our chairs and watch the newest movie that we had picked.  Of course it really wasn’t our chairs.  But we had come over enough that everyone knew just where to sit when it came time to settle down.  2

    Mine was the rocking chair.  It was cushioned with a blue cushion.  I would sit there and slide down to where my head would rest on the back of the chair and my feet rested on the foot rest and rock silently while watching the move.  What was funny was that I never got to see the end of any movie, or the middle of it either.  I would sit there and slowly my eye lids would go heavy and I would fall asleep until someone woke me up.  But I didn’t care.  It was comfortable.  I became accustomed to it.3

    Now as I pass that house everyday I look at the new owners of it.  I see all of their different decorations that they had put up.  The swing set that was once there was taken down.  The chairs on the front porch were gone and replacing them were other objects.  The place where the pool had been in the back was now only a patch of flattened grass that would someday grow out.  The van that would be parking besides the house was now replaced with a truck that parked in the front of the house.  It all seems so surreal.  4

In my mind I can just picture myself standing outside of the door ringing the door bell.  I can see the door opening and there she would be.  Still there.  She would say “What took you so long?  They started to wrestle with out you.”  I would step in and place my shoe on the shoe rack and walk inside the door way that led to the kitchen.  Then to the living room.  5

But I know that if I were to really do that.  If I were to ring the door bell on that door I would not see her come to answer the door.  I would see someone different.  The new owner of the house.  She wouldn’t be there to greet me.   There would just be a strange looking at me as if asking what I wanted.6

To unknowing eyes, you wouldn’t have noticed the difference.  You would just think that that house looked the same.  That the same family was living there.  But I know better.  I know that they are gone.  I know all of this, but still.  As the bus passes that house everyday, I can’t help but stare at it till it was out of my sight.  Stare and wonder if I were to ring that bell, would her face be the one that will be on the other side of the door to greet me, would she be there smiling and say “What took you so long?”  7