Chapter
9: Room
The house was tall and of
average size, but stood neatly upon its street with not so much a thought to
monotony. As the others surrounding it, something made this house unique. While
some had red shutters, and others regal columns, still others, widow’s walks or
bright yellow siding. This one had a brick-paved walkway to its door, and a
well-kept lawn and a bright garden, all maintained by its inhabitants. In the
front yard, was one uneven patch of grass, dented strangely by a lack of
something.
And within, nothing was out of
its place. No clothes dotted the floor, nor cups sitting on coffee tables.
There had been days the house had seen chaos, but now, it stood pristine. Even
what was not seen was kept in perfect places.
Picture frames and photographs
and elementary school photos and old albums, birth certificates and jackets and
clothes that had been kept.
Scarves went untouched in that
secret compartment.
A few articles were distributed
throughout the house. There was one photograph of four turned on its face in the
room shared by the couple, and a small singular photograph in the drawer of the
girl.
There was another nice home
which kept old favorite toys; the room had been well-stocked and well-worn for
twelve short years. Children had frequented the room for years, even continuing
to visit or play as they “grew out” of their toys’ usage. The dolls and cars
and trucks were small reminders of a quick, fleeting youth which seemed mystical
and endless at the time.
All the rooms once knew
laughter. The bedrooms had each been occupied at one time. The rooms had known
a camera’s flash, a tearing of plastic and colored paper on holidays and days
which celebrated the births of its inhabitants. The walls had known of crayon
and marker and finger paint, and secret messages and thumbtacks and tape and
posters and friendly drawings.
The floors had known of the
same, and of dropped sneaked snacks and of muddy shoe prints and frogs rescued
from the wild. The paint in one room had not always been the same. Those walls
had known custard yellow and had worn coats of dinosaur green and space-sky
blue, before their deep and neutral maroon and berry shade of this moment in
time.
The beds had known many sheets
of children growing, and new frames, new colored blankets, new themed
comforters. The rooms had once known cribs and infant cries.
The house had known chaos. Its
yard had known more than simple grass and marvelous flowers and fruit. There
had once been a tall, majestic tree inhabiting the front yard, providing shade
and a place to count when children had played hide and seek. More than one
would often be within and without the house.
One room had once contained many
a photograph upon its walls. One room had once had a floor of dress up clothes
and glitter and pink paper and projects. It had once contained giggles and
secrets and a frequent population of fours and fives.
The halls had once contained
adult footsteps at nine o’clock, peering into the rooms of the children,
relieved at the sights within, or so it seemed, as their steps lightened going
from these rooms to their own. The halls had also contained the tip-toeing of
the children as they rushed into the living room at early hours to take kitchen
chairs and bedroom blankets to make a tent to read and pretend.
An old vehicle within the garage
had once contained two small carseats, then one small carseat and a little
booster seat. It had once contained small plastic toys from stores and
fast-food meals on the floor. Coloring books and backpacks.
Crayon marks had merely faded
just enough to not be seen when glanced at fast enough within this vehicle. The
garage in which the vehicle resided in had once contained two tricycles and two
large bicycles. It had once been opened almost all the time. There once was an
old projector for movies and shows, which had once shown movies on the screen
that was the garage door, to which the neighborhood would flock on the
occasional summer night.
During the day, the tree had
once provided shade and a place to count, and a way to challenge one’s skills
to climb. The tree had once been constantly kicked and grasped and shimmied
upon, by such children.
The tree that had once stood,
had once contained more than leaves and twigs in the fall. It had once
contained something else, and not long after, the tree would be disposed of.
And all those small things would
be put in the room and every last thing would be put in its proper place. The
clothes were put away, photographs away, tricycles away, toys away. Out of
sight.
No comments:
Post a Comment