My Old House

My old house. What can I possibly say about it? I don't miss it. I enjoy living in my new house, and I love that there's a seven eleven just around the corner of it, and yet, I find myself feeling a little blue whenever I think of the house I used to live in. Let me tell you about it. It's small. My room there was the size of a shoe box. At times, it felt the entire house was the size of a shoe box, even when it has three stories. But I can't say I wasn't happy there. I had the most wonderful 15 years of my life living there, for there I enjoyed birthdays, Christmas days, summer breaks but I also loathed carrying in the groceries to the second story, because that's where the kitchen is. I know that house like the back of my hand, and as weird as it sounds, it feels like that house knows me too. That house watched me grow up, cry tears of joy and also suffer a little, because suffering is inevitable, no matter how old you are. Now it's odd seeing other people living there. I can't help but wonder, do they know the secrets the stairs keep? Beneath each tiny rug placed neatly on top of every single step? Do they? Do they know of the countless drinks spilled on the carpet? And just how easy it was to get rid of the stains they left behind? Do they know that if by arranging in a specific way the furniture in the living room, they get a little hiding place? The one where I used to hide, in order to spy my mom placing Christmas gifts beneath the Christmas tree every year. What do they think of the tiny drawing I made with a sharpie marker on the wall? Have they painted on top of it already? Do they spend endless afternoons in the small TV room, the same way I used to when I was a kid? Even when my room in my new house is spacious and the four walls I enjoy wasting my time in, I often wonder what the people living in my old house think of it. Do they enjoy living there, the same way I enjoyed my 15 year old stay? My new house is much bigger, so much bigger that at times it feels a little too enormous.

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david218's picture


Sometimes you have to experience something to understand. I liked reading your story.