Just a House

Never quite the master bedroom she had dreamed of, but it was the one she loved, her sanctuary. Here she and Jack ended each day, planned and conceived their family with the exception of Charlene. But their oldest child was conceived on the property before the house was built. A celebratory picnic after the lands purchase turned romantic. She remembered how thankful she was there were no neighbors at the time. Now there were four other houses on the cul-de-sac.

Walking down the hallway she stopped at the bathroom door. She could see the twins playing in the tub. Action figures jumping from the faucet, then rescued by a foam covered superhero. The boy's giggles and screams of triumph echoed off the walls.

She stopped at Charlene’s door, always closed once she turned thirteen, keeping the twins out, teenage secrets in. She fingered the wood putty covering the holes Charlene had made trying to install a padlock. Her hand rested on the doorknob. She could not remember the last time she opened it. No need to check. The room had been empty ever since Charlene went off to Chicago for her first job after college. She let the door remain closed.

She glanced in David’s room as she started down the stairs. Primer, three coats of paint, and the ceiling still looked dark. David had been insistent; glow-in-the-dark stars and planets just would not be the same without the blackness of space. Now a junior in college, David still insisted his room remain the same. Sometimes things have to change.

Her hand trailed lightly along the oak banister, smooth as glass from years of slides. Forbidden slides which occasionally ended in a bruised bottom or chipped tooth. Like so many forbidden things , the slide was so hard to resist.

Turning into the dining room, she had to stop and take a deep breath. She could still see the dining room table all decorated for Jack’s New job celebration. At the end of the evening there remained One slice of chocolate cake. Jack insisted he was going to have it for breakfast the next day, a breakfast no one had. The slice of cake remained on the table for a week before anyone moved it.

The sparkle of the chandelier let her know the kitchen light was still on. She walked slowly into the kitchen as if wading through water.

The large kitchen surrounded the breakfast table where their days began. She wondered if the aromas of sugared cereals, warm pancakes, bacon, and fresh brewed coffee were now permanent fixtures, like the wood cabinets, granite countertops, the magnets which held school pictures and dinosaur drawings to the fridge. Reaching for the light her eyes were drawn to the doorjamb, marked with growth, the passage of time. David on one side, Charlene on the other, each chased by a twin. Everyone had their own color. She smiled to her self, glad the painters had not finished yet.

On her way to the living room she glanced down the stairs leading to the play room, remembering David say “den, mom, we're not kids anymore” while grabbing pop tarts and cookies for his friends. The sounds of cartoons, a hard rock station, foosball, and air hockey rose through the open doorway.

Plush maroon carpet, large stone hearth, and cedar bookshelves on either side of the fireplace welcomed her into the living room. A true ”living” room, where they played games as a family, had movie nights, played with pets, and mourned their loss. She saw the Christmas tree, the twins matching beanbag chairs, the loveseat where she and Jack held hands and ate popcorn, children at their feet all cuddled up in the matching flannel pajamas, Jack’s family Christmas gift every year.

When she opened the front door the wind blew away the echoes of Christmas carols, pillow fights, and laughter. Turning off the hall light, softly closing the door, she let the darkness fill the spaces.

As she pulled out of the driveway the sold sign swung in the wind reminding her it was just a house.