Selling a Childhood Home
Words: dreamscape, convince, pioneer, genesis, cumulous, jump, mash, condition, erase, gold
The house was silent. Dust filtering through the beams of light as the young man pushed back the curtains. The condition of the house was in disrepair but it still held its charm. The mahogany fireplace with its gold trim, the worn out wool rug on the floor, and the badly recreated dreamscape painting made by a young boy many years ago. The man stared fondly at the painting. After all these years, it was still here. He had tried to convince his father to take it down as he got older, but he wouldn’t hear of it. His father was proud of it, and he loved how to cumulous clouds in the painting looked like penguins.
The stairs creaked as he ascended them, the wallpaper peeling at the corners. He remembered how they had to replace it when he was young because he was pretending to be a pioneer in the wild west, and the wall was just perfect for drawing wanted posters on. He thought it was great, his mother did not when nothing she tried worked to erase the damage.
Each room held so many memories and stories. But as each item was packed away in a box and mashed into the truck out front, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness build in his chest. This was his first home, the first place he ever felt safe, it was the first and the last of so many things. And now it was time to say goodbye to it. He always thought that this house would be here, his fallback for if everything went wrong. He jumped out of his musings at the sound of the truck horn alerting him it was time to leave. He gave the empty house one more look before locking the door one last time. Leaving this house behind marked a new genesis for him, a new adventure.
The Stories in My Head 