Reflections From The House

I walked through the house one more time.  The rooms were empty now, except for the memories.  This was the place where my sister and I grew up.  Each room had its own memory.

The living room and the Christmas tree.

The dining room and Thanksgiving dinner.

The family room where we all watched T.V.

The garage where we played not so serious games of Ping Pong for hours and hours.

The memory that stands out the most is a black and white photograph that I took of my father sitting at a kitchen table, arms crossed over his chest.  He was deep in thought.  The glow from the kitchen light, sort of made Pop look like a stoic angle.  That’s how I will always remember my dad.

My father’s dreams and that of my mothers were in this house.  It was the first one they bought and the only one they ever lived in since they were married.  This was the place where he raised his children, paid the bills on time and talked about the some days.  The days when he would retire, the days when he would go to Florida in the winter and come back here in the summer.

This is also where I learned life’s most valuable lessons.  The time a garbage man asked for a glass of water on a hot summer’s day and my mother ordered me to get it for him, immediately.  I was very young and said something to her about giving water to a garbage man.  “We give water to people who are thirsty, period”.  I’ve forgotten the details of the day, but that memory is with me forever.

Pop passed away almost eight years just about this time, unexpectedly.  No extra goodbyes no double checking the rooms.  The memories of yesterday and the reality of today makes you wonder where all the time went.  My folks were going to have a few good years of retirement, wear matching shirts and talk about what they did, like kids at summer camp.  They would have grandchildren and life would be filled with joy and less struggle for everybody.

No grandchildren; I almost dated a girl named Joy, life is still a struggle and the house is being sold today.  Times, the neighborhood, people are changing, but the memories from the house will stay the same forever.