What Was Once A Home
Today I walk past familiar roads and then into that welcoming lane. Three houses fly by as a grin spreads across my face and my heart starts racing. And then, my feet stop suddenly. I'm there. In front of the mahogany door, smelling of memories. Home. I take three trembling steps towards it, stretching my hand to turn the knob and then, I jerk my hand back as reality comes crashing down around me. Home it was indeed, yet no longer to me.
The hallways that I ran in, chasing after my brother; the bedroom in the attic that was our hideout, the kitchen where we had riots during meals and the living room that housed the best family ever. All gone. Tears fall down my cheeks involuntarily but I'm beyond caring. Because now, it was just a house. A house with silent, cold walls and narrow dark hallways. Because everything that made it a home had already left the world and I was left behind. A ghost of a memory, cursed to live without what makes me alive. Very much like the house I stand before.
I walk in now, and it's the same, yet so different. Mom's slippers tucked haphazardly under the couch, dad's coffee mug on the right corner of the fourth shelf, right beside Aaron's soccer trophy. And our picture, picnic day, last year; smiling, looking like we would be doing that for years to come. I suppress the urge to fling it onto the floor; because mum doesn't like her favorite rug to be littered with pieces of glass. But she had nothing against the broken remains of her daughter. So,I fall to the floor, cold, trembling and finally inconsolable. Because they are never coming back home again; because it will no longer be the home I went back to and it will indeed be an eternity before I can call this empty coffin, a home.