If Walls Could Talk

If walls could talk, my voice would be distinctive.

So, to speak, I was born in the early 1900s. I was the answer to a wealthy family's desire to enclose their land in the south of France. Every brick and stone that went into my construction was laid with love and attention. I was initially just a plain wall, but as time passed, I was altered to fit the family and the era.

I've seen so much of history firsthand. I witnessed the rise and fall of empires, kings, and queens, and I was present for the evolution of political institutions. I heard the cries of people running for cover from bombs and gunfire during both World Wars, which I witnessed. I observed as the community I guard expanded and changed, turning into a thriving center of business and culture.

My family was excited, and they made sure that their home accurately reflected that. Around me, they added sculptures, gardens, and fountains, and I could sense the joy and love that went into their making. I took pride in my duty as the silent watcher who kept an eye on everything. But things weren't always good. There were moments when I was my family's lone line of defense when they were in danger. I witnessed my family's fear and agony as they were forced to hide in the cellar below me during the Nazi occupation of the town during World War II. I listened helplessly as they prayed and whispered. Yet, in the end, we all survived, and the family added a little monument in memory of those who did not.

The family grew older as the years went by. Finally, they left their property to their offspring, who ultimately left it to their descendants. The property grew and changed as each generation contributed something new to it. But after that, something changed.

A new buyer who needed to appreciate the worth of my family's heritage purchased the property. But, unfortunately, they wanted to destroy me and build me more aesthetically pleasing. What could I do? After all, I was only a wall.

But suddenly, a remarkable event took place. Nobody else noticed something about me that the new owner's daughter, a young lady with an old soul, did. She could see the love, memories, and history that went into making me a masterpiece. She pleaded with her parents to keep me to respect my creators' legacy and the past.

So, I stuck around. The girl's respect for history moved me, and I was pleased to continue acting as a silent observer of history. Even if just to a few people who took the time to listen, I knew that my experiences would continue to be recounted. I serve as a link to the past, a remembrance of what connects these people, and a promise of the future.

As the years passed, I observed the young girl who had saved my life develop into a young woman. She enjoyed spending time in the garden with me, reading books, and enjoying the sunshine. I was touched to be her trusted confidante as she spoke to me and shared her ideas and dreams.

She eventually got married and had her own kids. They would also come to see me and rub their hands over my rough skin, feeling the lumps and flaws that made me unique. They would play games near me while I watched them and listened to their laughing and childish voices. Knowing that a new generation was taking over my protector duty felt reassuring.

I witnessed a lot more changes as the years passed. The town I guarded kept expanding and changing, becoming a cultural and trade center. Also, the way people lived and worked was changing due to innovations and technological advancements. But despite everything, I continued to be a constant in a world that continually seemed to be changing.

The family that rescued me eventually transferred their property to a new owner. I was anxious because I didn't know if the next owner would cherish my past or if they would only want to replace me. But when they got there, I could tell they were in awe of the garden, the statues, and of course, myself. The new owner was an artist, and they recognized my unique qualities.

They intended to use my unforgiving surface as a canvas to paint their creations. I was initially concerned since I thought this new position would distract me from my original goal, but I started to appreciate the beauty of the artist's vision as they worked. They added a fresh chapter to my tale, which would be passed down to successive generations.

Thus, I continue to be a wall with a rich voice in history and stories. Despite how much I have already seen here, there is always more to learn. Who can predict what the future may hold? Yet, I'm confident I'll remain present when the world changes around me.

The settlement I defended grew and changed throughout time, bringing new difficulties. I observed people coming and going continuously and new structures being built and paved roads. I, however, remained steadfast throughout it all, waiting and watching.

The town expanded, but I also witnessed the worst aspects of human nature. I observed the increase in crime, heard the cries of the victims, and experienced the weight of fear and hopelessness. Seeing and feeling so helpless as people suffered was difficult. But in a world that appeared to be disintegrating, I persisted as a representation of strength and stability.

Even though it was dark, there were also times of light. I observed residents cooperating to improve their town. I watched neighbors assisting one another. I kept the children playing and exploring with smiles while hearing music and laughing. These instances encouraged me for the future and convinced me there was always a chance for redemption, no matter how grim things appeared.

I remained a mute observer of the changes occurring all around me as the decades passed. I observed the development of new scientific and political theories and a steady stream of individuals coming and going. But despite everything, I continued to serve as a testimony to the past and a memory of what came before.

Then, one day, something strange occurred. I was hurt when a severe storm struck the community; I had spent many years guarding. I was at risk of collapsing since my bricks and stones were fractured, and my mortar was insufficient. I felt exposed and terrified for the first time in my long life.

Yet the residents of the town did not allow me to stumble. They came together instead, determined to prevent me from crumbling, preserving the history and memories I possessed. They put in a lot of effort while honoring the original materials and construction methods used to create me all those years ago while employing contemporary techniques and technologies to fix the damage.

Even though it was a protracted and challenging process, I eventually recovered my former radiance. I felt tremendous thanks for the folks who saved me as I stood tall and proud again. They had demonstrated the possibility of hope and salvation even in the direst circumstances. In my time here, I've witnessed a lot, but I've also discovered that there is always a chance for atonement and a means to beat the odds. Even though I may be a wall, I know I have a tale to tell—one of love, grief, and hope.