The Thing About Families

If walls could talk, well we would have a lot to say. And I would start from the beginning.

Richard was the only one present when I became aware. He was alone but I always believed he built our home with the idea of a future family.

He hauled in wood, plaster, paint, and then eventually furniture. Most of it was done alone, but Tommy was there on occasion to help. I spent countless hours, days, months, maybe even a year watching the small rooms come together around me.

I loved seeing the progress made, but even more I grew to love Richard. At the end of every day he would sit on the floor in front of me with his beer and look at the work he'd done that day. He seemed proud of himself when it all started to come together, and I felt proud of him too.

My job was to hold up the living room and I took it very seriously. I stood strong and firm against high winter winds, careful to not let any cold in. During the summer, I was careful to not let any of the cold out and kept the heat far away from my beloved Richard. I protected him from the elements and the wildlife and helped to provide him a sanctuary to call home.

When Janice started spending more time with us, I protected her too. The first time she came over, I remember how nervous Richard was. He spent hours in the kitchen, just across from my wall where I could see him. Many smells filled the air of the cabin as he pulled platters in and out of the wooden burning stove. Then he nervously set a table right near me and re-adjusted the plates and cups about thirty times until he felt it was just right.

She finally showed up and he acted casual, like the meal he'd made took no time at all and the table was always set that way. He was tense but happy and I was glad to keep his secret that he'd spent all day preparing.

After that first night, Janice started spending more time with us and eventually I began to love her too. It was wonderful to watch the way he smiled for hours when she would leave, or how they would cuddle and giggle together when she would stay.

It didn't take long for her to start moving her own stuff in and eventually she stopped leaving at all. During one of Tommy's visits, I heard him whisper to Richard that he was concerned.

"This seems to be moving fast," he said. "Are you sure you're not rushing anything?"

"When you know, you know," Richard responded with a smile. "She's the one, Tommy. What am I waiting for?"

And that was it. She was the one. The one we were waiting for. The one we wanted to share our walls and home with. There was no doubt. Not even when a year later she packed a bag and stormed out, saying she was going to her sister's house for the night.

I watched Richard's face as the door slammed behind her. He had never looked so scared, but I was certain she would be back. The best part of being a wall is that you get to protect the most important people in the world and all of their prized possessions. The worst part is unless something happens in your room, you're kind of out of the loop.

Even without knowing what made her leave that night, I knew she wouldn't be gone long. I wish I could have told Richard that as he slid down me and cried on the floor for what felt like forever, or when he finally made his way to the couch and buried himself in blankets as he wept.

It took a while, but he eventually fell asleep in that position and I anxiously watched the door for Janice to return. I watched as the rain started and thunder boomed through the skies, thankful to be able to help keep Richard safe from the storm. The sound of rain pummeled our tin roof, but he didn't stir at all until there was a soft click in the door.

At first Richard slowly pulled the blankets off his body and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, but when the door opened fully he jumped up and hurried to greet a very wet Janice.

"I'm so sorry," he said, wrapping his arms around her tiny body and kissing her forehead.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left."

It was clear she'd also been crying as he led her into the kitchen to dry off and have a hot tea. Of course she had come back, she was the one. We all knew it.

The fight seemed to make their relationship stronger, and there was never another night I didn't get to see them get ready for bed together. I watched with pride as their love grew and, eventually, her stomach did too. It wasn't long before I had two twin girls to love and look after.

Catherine, the oldest by 3 minutes, and Annabelle, the baby, were perfect in their own way. Despite looking exactly the same, they acted very different.

Annabelle liked to be alone. She laid quietly in her play pen, occasionally picking up her favorite stuffed hippo. As the years went on, she continued to play quietly and by herself. I often heard the secrets she would share with her stuffed animals as she set them up around the table for tea parties. She was the sweetest, most unproblematic child Janice and Richard could have had. Once she learned how to read, she spent hours each day curled up on the couch with a book in her hand. We spent a lot of time together and I think I might have loved her the most.

Catherine, on the other hand, was a little more rowdy. As soon as she learned to crawl, she was untouchable. Always curious and on the move. Janice was constantly chasing her around the cabin, and a small part of me found it quite fun. Catherine had the makings of a future artist from a very young age, and I was lucky enough to be her first canvas. At first, she was reprimanded for covering my lowest corner with her colors, but it didn't dissuade her from continuing to color me whenever she got the chance. It took a few years for her parents to bring in an easel, and as Catherine got older she spent all of her time either painting or outside the house.

It was a true joy to watch the girls grow up and I loved watching life booming in the home Richard worked so hard to build all those years ago. The downside, however, was as they aged so did my beloved Richard and Janice. I watched as roles reversed throughout the years. It hurt to see them slow down, but their youngest began taking over the cooking and cleaning.

Her favorite meal to cook was roasted chicken with a side of potatoes and green beans. The smell could make anyone's mouth water, even an old wall that didn't have one. Everyone always complimented her food, and I could see the pride she'd felt as she cleared empty plates off the table.

Janice didn't cook much anymore, but she did take over the kitchen that one warm day in May. Annabelle announced she planned to bring a senior named Roger home who she liked a lot and wanted to meet everyone. I wasn't sure about him at first, but the family seemed to love him. He took a while to grow on me, but once I saw how much he helped Richard with the upkeep of our home my mind mostly changed.

I liked him a little less when he decided to go to university far away but I continued to protect him and keep him safe when he visited our baby. Our baby who wasn't a baby anymore, but now 16 and looking at schools herself. Our baby who spent many nights crying about missing him on the same couch her father cried not long ago when her mother left.

One night Catherine walked in after spending the day out with her friends and found her twin sprawled out on the couch watching the landline on the coffee table in front of her.

"He hasn't called?" she asked.

"Not yet, but he said he would," Annabelle said with a sniffle.

"I don't understand why you do this to yourself," Catherine took a seat at her sisters feet and squeezed them encouragingly. "Long distance obviously isn't working. All you do is cry and miss him, why not find someone closer?"

"It's not that simple."

"But it can be," Catherine said, clearly not understanding. "He's your high school sweetheart, Anna. These relationships aren't meant to last forever."

"This one is," Annabelle sat up defensively. She looked into a face that appeared the same as hers, but she knew was the person on the other side could never understand. "Roger is my soulmate, I just know it. We're meant to be together, we just need to get through one more year before we live close by again."

"Well when you know, you know I guess." Catherine shrugged, picking up a magazine from the table and flipping through it. To her the conversation was over, but I could see in Annabelle's eyes that she knew she meant what she said.

"Oh, I know," she whispered, then returned her eyes to the phone.

The year seemed to fly by and it wasn't long before Annabelle and Catherine were packing their bags and moving out. While I was thrilled to be with Janice and Richard again, I did worry about my girls and counted the days until I knew they were coming to visit.

Catherine didn't come back as often as Annabelle and Roger did. The couple often came when Richard needed help around the house. I watched Roger move in a television and fix a broken leg on their table which laid on its side for weeks until he got there. They replaced the refrigerator and brought in a new stove. After a while, it was the couch that was heading out the door. I enjoyed seeing a lot of the changes, but this one made me sad. The couch had been there with me since the beginning, it was one of the first pieces of furniture to come in.

I saw Richard and Janice fall in love on that couch. I witnessed heartbreak and joy and more family puzzles than one could imagine. The couch held many memories for us, memories that I would now hold alone for the years to come.

One day Richard and Janice left the house for the last time, and I was alone for a few weeks. I was getting older and weaker myself but continued to look over our home. Then one day everything changed again.

Roger and Annabelle showed up with many of their friends who moved more items in and out of our home. Over the next few months, I watched as tarps were thrown over the new couch, the television and the table and Catherine took her time repainting the walls. At first I was sad to lose my original color and her childish drawings, but I was just glad to have her working on me again. And the fresh coat gave me the boost I needed to take care of my new residents.

The house looked very different after Roger and baby Annabelle moved in, but it was still our home and I was happy to be a part of it. It didn't take long for her stomach to begin to swell and then a baby boy joined our growing family.

Little Joseph was unlike anyone I looked after, but I loved him just the same. He was a tough boy who took after his father, but I did see a bit of Catherine in him as well. I watched fondly as Annabelle chased him around the house in the same way her mother did with her sister not too long ago.

As the years went by there were more changes around me. A computer was brought in, a display case was built for Joseph's baseball trophies, an even newer couch was brought in. There were many nights that Joseph's friends piled into my room and watched tv for hours on end. They talked, played games, and ate more food than I'd ever witnessed anyone eat in one sitting.

It was a true joy to watch this boy grow up and I loved watching life once again booming in the home Richard worked so hard to build all those years ago. The downside, however, was as they aged so did my beloved Roger and Annabelle. I watched as roles reversed again throughout the years. It hurt to see them slow down, but Roger began picking up the slack. He started to do more chores around the house and even decided to stay home for college.

The reason he told people he chose a school nearby was to help his aging parents, but I had a feeling it was to be near his girlfriend, Amanda, who lived just a few miles away. The relationship was relatively new when he made the decision so he would never admit it, but I heard him whispering about her to a friend during one of the last sleepovers he had senior year.

"When you know, you know," he had said.

The thing about families is that they never know how much they have in common from generation to generation, but I know. And the walls around me know. And we all feel such pleasure watching them grow up in the footsteps of their ancestors.