Italo Calvino said: The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts.
They built me by hand.
I am made of brick, wood, blood and Budwieser.
I remember the day that they turned on my electricity….
I was almost alive….
All I needed was the people.
Amy showed up in her mama’s belly just before winter that year.
Patty was almost as big as me, at least that’s what Tom had said, laughing when he tried to pick her up and carry her into me.
I remember how angry she was when he lay on my front porch groaning from his tremendous display of strength.
He told her that his back was broke and to “Leave me here, honey” to just “Find someone that will love you and try and go on without me”
She laughed while she beat him up….So did he laugh, thru gritted teeth. .
It kind of tickled having people live inside me but, I finally felt complete…fulfilled, so to say.
I thought we were happy until they brought baby Amy home back to me.
I didn’t know that a baby could make such a difference in our lives.
I felt her everywhere as she crawled, toddled, fell or walked inside me.
The laughter and joy that she brought to our little family is something I can’t explain to you, people.
I was proud and serious about my job of protecting them from the rain, snow, lightning and mosquitoes.
I was their home.
I was their house.
Once….Tom called me a “Castle” Patty called me a disaster area…LOL!
I was so proud…..
Amy called me “goo goo doo doo”….Well, I think that’s what she slobber thru a gob full of spaghettios.
Some of the best times were when they would sit out on my porch.
Pat would sing low, Tom would whittle a stick with his little knife and Amy would just sit on my steps and brush that stupid cats fur.
I hated that Cat.
Sometimes when that damn cat was outside in my yard doing his business, he would just sit there and stare at me.
Amy would ask him what he was looking at when she’d find him outside.
I think he knew I was staring back at him, hoping he’d get back out into the street during rush hour.
That was a while back; the happy times, I should say.They’ve been gone for 10 years, I think.
Wow…I remember the day that they left…
Amy had sat on my steps and cried. She was 13, if I recall……
Tom told me I was “a good house’ and had walked around me, touching me….thanking me.
Pat cried too…
It broke my heart..
How terrible a thing it is to have a soul but can’t give a simple hug.
Patty had been the first to step inside me and make me her own.
It was she that made me beautiful and snug.
She cried that day; it was awful…I couldn’t do a damn thing to comfort her…..
I trembled when her tears fell on me.
I honestly didn’t know they were leaving until the very day it happened.
I’m still still waiting.
I keep waiting…
It’s hell being old and lonely…
It’s hell being forgotten… .
I can feel myself starting to fall apart after all this time.
I’m not like humans….I need people, you see..
Tom would have never let my grass get so high, or allowed my skin to peel and fade.
Pat would have never let those little boys throw rocks at me, or set the fire that burned me.
Amy would never let me feel empty inside….
I am empty….
And I am alive…..
The sad part is that love don’t live here no more…..
I can’t live on memories like people. I need life inside me, to live.
“For Sale by Owner” is where I sit, waiting.
The boys are looking at me from the street….. They are back with the fire.
….. .please come home….
They’re burning me, again.
One thought on “Home Time”
This old house needs rescuing NOW!