I’m not really sure this title is right for this writing yet. But at the moment it feels that’s as close as I’ll get.
Once upon a time, there were three sisters who lived in a big stone house, in a medium sized town.
The house rang with laughter. Arguments. Battles and alliances. Feet running down the wooden floored hallway, racing the dog to the post. Santa traps and the like.
Doors slamming. Sulks and strops.
Music, music, music. So many happy times. Sad ones too.
It was home. Where we were physically all together. Dad rebuilt that house nearly. Rewired, reroofed, refloored. I think his back aches every time he thinks of it!
The back yard is where I honed my reversing skills, weave through the gates, missing the car in front of the garage, to down the side of the garage and don’t hit the wall on the other side.
It was being turned into flats I discovered late on Wednesday evening. Something else sad had also happened. I read a report on the local newspaper website and my heart skipped a beat when I saw my house there.
I can’t go back and say hello house – Remember me? Take my kids there and show them the places we would play. Where we laughed and cried and joked and played.
How can i worry about a house? I hope it’s ok. I really do.
I think I really need to learn how to let things go.