Final Farewell

"If the walls could talk what stories they'd tell," Josie thought as she walked through the familiar front door. It felt strange to be here again after so many years. Everything had changed, the furniture was gone, the pictures no longer hung on the walls, the smell of fresh baked bread didn't permeate the air. Yet, everything felt exactly the same.

As though they'd heard Josie's thoughts the walls began whispering to her. It began as a low hum, a jumble of excited mutterings indistinguishable from each other. But as she ran her hand over the blank wall in the hallway one murmuring voice became louder and more clear than the rest.

"Remember the little man who hung on this wall and would squirt water and laugh in your face when you pulled its tie," the wall chuckled. "Remember the time Gracie pulled the tie right after Grandma told you all not to do it anymore."

The little half wall on the other side that separated the hallway from the kitchen chortled, "And when Grandma scolded her Gracie declared 'It wasn't me, it was the one armed man!'"

The first wall was in hysterics but managed to get out, "Then Uncle Lou shook his head and said, 'It wasn't me!'"

"Gracie's face was priceless when she realized what she'd said," the half wall wailed in laughter.

Josie smiled at the memory. Gracie's face somehow went redder than her hair and she couldn't look their Uncle in the eye for weeks afterward. Lou, who had lost one arm as a child, had laughed hardest of all at the unintended joke. Ever since the phrase had become a common denial in the wake of the blockbuster movie it had come from, Uncle Lou had waited for the perfect moment to drop his epic punchline.

The laughter from the walls died down and the low rumble of all the walls murmuring returned. Josie crossed the dining room to the window that overlooked the backyard. She leaned her hand against the edge of the window and one voice grew louder and more clear.

"They spent so much time in that backyard working in that garden," the wall mused. "They tried so hard to teach all of you how to work and grow what you needed to survive."

"I know," she sighed sadly, "but the only thing I ever learned was how to bury army men when I was supposed to be pulling weeds."

"I think you learned more than that," the wall assured Josie. "You might not have the same green thumb as Grandpa but you appreciate the benefits of a garden."

The corners of her mouth twitched up a little,"True, there's nothing that tastes better than peas fresh from the pod or a juicy tomato still warm from the sun. When they're grown with patience and love it's the best treat in the world."

She turned from the window and walked into the kitchen. Her hand traced the edge of the cabinets her grandfather had made and double wall ovens. Excitedly they bubbled with stories they couldn't wait to share.

"Remember how she taught you to make bread. She was always the first person to show up with a hot loaf anytime someone was in need." One wall mused.

Another chimed in, "Don't forget not to handle your pie crust too much, it'll be tougher than a boiled owl!"

The ovens then rumbled, "Cook your turkey breast side down."

A tear leaked over her cheek at the flood of memories, all the things Grandma taught her over the years. As she turned back toward the living room one final call came from the kitchen.

"There's still cookies in the freezer!"

Josie entered the empty living room and stood in the center. Murmurs came from every direction and she wondered how much more she could bear to hear while simultaneously hoping the stories would never end. Gingerly, she reached out her hand and placed it against the wall where the piano once stood next to Grandpa's favorite chair.

"What's a seven letter word for hero?" The wall laughed. "If you know the answer I'll give you a Hurts Donut. Would you like a Hurts Donut?"

"Grandpa would know," Josie smiled. "Grandpa knew everything. "

"That's not true," the wall replied. "Remember once he thought he was wrong…"

Josie laughed, "But he was mistaken."

She turned to go down the hall and the wall started singing behind her Grandpa's favorite nonsensical song, "I had a little dog and his name was Jack, put him in a barn and he jumped through a crack. Had a little dog and his name was Fred, put him in a barn and he jumped through a crack."

As Josie entered the bathroom the walls were all giggling hysterically. "How did Jonah and Landon convince you and Gabriella to go down that laundry shoot?"

"It didn't take much," Josie laughed at the memory. "They were the super cool older cousins. Pretty sure all they said was, 'Hey let's see if you can fit down the laundry shoot' and we did."

"Your Grandma was so angry when she found out," the wall laughed. "For a God-fearing woman who wouldn't say anything crass, there sure was a lot of Dammit and Hell hollered at those boys that day."

Josie turned from the memory and the laughter of the walls to the room behind her, full of whispered memories of an entirely different type of emotion. The room stood empty and barren making Josie's heart heavy. Overcome with feeling, she leaned against the wall.

"When they speak of angels on earth," whispered the wall solemnly, "they speak of women like your Grandma. You watched how she cared for him, never resting, never really sleeping. All those nights she got up so many times, testing his sugar, giving him insulin, making him eat when he refused like a child. All the while she watched him slowly forget her and all their years together. But she never forgot how he'd loved her and never stopped loving him."

Tears rolled freely over Josie's cheeks as she turned away from her Grandparents bedroom. As she continued to walk from room to room, the walls continued to talk, regaling her with stories of her misadventures with her cousins and sharing tales of her mother's childhood. Some made her laugh, others made her cry. Some reminded her of her Grandparents' unceasing dedication to serving those around them; others reminded her of their undying devotion to God. She remembered the times she thought Gabriella and Gracie would always be her closest friends. She remembered the heartache of realizing Jonah would never return to this home.

Josie finally made her way to the basement and entered the family room. This was the ultimate treasure trove of memories. There were no more quilt frames set up in the center of the room for Grandma to teach her to tie. The sewing machine and its accompanied jars of buttons were gone. The fold out couch where the cousins had laughed together all night instead of sleeping no longer waited against the wall. The fireplace was cold. Grandpa's indoor gardening beds had vanished. But the pole in the center of the room was still there to hold up the ceiling. Josie smiled and grabbed it with her left hand, then as she had done so many times as a child, she spun around the pole as fast as she could, until her hand stung, rubbed raw from moving over the cold metal.

The walls sang a chorus of memories and Josie happily wept in response. Family gatherings, fifty year anniversary, movie nights, sofa forts, troll villages, pilfered buckets of frozen cookies, memories kept coming and the tears kept flowing. The memories varied so much but there was one thing they all had in common, love.

Finally satisfied, Josie made her way back upstairs and to the front door. She looked around the empty space one final time.

"This was a happy home full of love," whispered one wall.

"We got to share sixty years of wonderful memories with your family," added another.

"But it's time," said a third.

"It's time for us to make memories with the next family," the first wall agreed.

"It's time," Josie nodded. "Make sure their memories are as wonderful as ours."

"We will," the walls promised.

Josie smiled as she closed the door behind her, taking only her memories and a heart filled with love.