Just... Like A Warm Scarf... ❤️ - une publication de blog par Paulxx001

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11/11/2019 12h00

Dernière Consultation:
2/6/2020 7h02

Just... Like A Warm Scarf... ❤️

As she stepped into the empty house, sadness rushed to greet her. She closed the door and listened, to the gloomy silence and her own breathing. The keys in her hands jingled cheerfully, as if to mock her.

Her heels clicked across the dark grey, stone tiled floor and echoed, off bare white walls. She reached the kitchen and paused. Slowly, she pulled the keys off the brass ring and threw them, on the black marble counter. He ... had already been there and had left his set... neatly stacked and perfectly labelled.

She sighed, as she glanced at her watch and realized she was early. The real estate agent, wouldn't be there for another hour. She'd linger one last time, in a home where she'd lived, for more than thirty years.

Imagined voices and giggles called to her. She followed them... down the hallway and up the stairs. She walked into rooms, once littered with toys and dolls ; where clothes had been strewn, in piles on beds. She smiled to herself, recalling all those silly , motherly complaints.

The walls, with all their tiny holes and scratches and scribbles (in pencil and pen), offered clues... that someone had lived there. Time had been measured in inches... as they'd grown. "My gosh. Were they really, that little?" she thought, as she crouched down to touch her daughters' initials. They were squiggled in red and blue crayon and had nearly faded, into invisibility.

In another room, she closed her eyes and could almost smell - the fresh paint. She'd always loved that shade of green and was proud of her efforts with a roller, and a brush. He , would never forget to remind her... just how much he hated - chartreuse.

Eventually, she wandered back into the kitchen. An open drawer, drew her closer. She peered in and... tucked at the back... found something, that had been left behind. It was a picture. A small one, framed by the people who sold it to her. You've probably seen them - those pictures, that is. They're the ones snapped as you roar down the steep angles of 'epic' rides, at amusement parks.

The image, was of the four of them - her family. Their mouth's were open, hands raised and laughter frozen, in that moment. She recalled... it had been raining. The park was deserted and there were no lines, for any of the rides. They'd actually ridden the giant roller coaster, four times in a row ! " That ... was a really great day," she smiled.

She held the photo closely, while peering into the expressions, of her children. "The girls look so tiny. We all look... so young. Everyone's happy. Even him ," she thought. "... even him."

Her children live a thousand miles away. They're adults now, with family's of their own. They call... occasionally. That amusement park has been closed, ages ago, torn down... and replaced with condos. She brushed her hair with her fingers... and glanced at her watch. Tears welled up in her eyes. She fought hard, not to blink.

Ever have one of those days, when sadness and nostalgia wrap around your throat, like a warm scarf... that you just don't want to take off - even if you know, it's choking you?

She stood there... clutching that photograph tightly, with both her hands ; afraid to let it go. She blinked. Tears fell... on cold black marble... in tiny mirrored puddles.
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Just... Like A Warm Scarf... ❤️ 12 Suivant

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