The house with memories

The house with memories

The old structure at the end of Maple Street was still standing with its silence, as if holding its breath to not awaken all of the memories sleeping on the wooden floors.

The shutters, as if crying, were all faded by time and the sun, were all leaning against the wall. They had been watching over the secrets of what had gone on in the house. Although I had not intended to stop, I ended up walking to it before I reached my mind. My spirit already recognised the house and knew exactly what to do.

Today something came to life within me, even though there were several things that I still had to get done. Today was not the regular day to meet up with him.

The door creaked open with a low groan, and the smell of the old wood and the mustiness from many years ago greeted me as it normally did. I heard the boards creak beneath my feet as if they were greeting me.

Every single room seemed to have its own voice, each having a separate mind and each having a place in my heart. The dining room, the room where all of our laughter occurred, and the stairs where we always had our secret games; that's where I always see my brother standing when I was scared.

The window is the same. While the sun is softer and has less light coming in, the same amount of sunlight is coming in through that window. The garden looks smaller than before; perhaps that's because I have grown. The feeling of nostalgia came over me as if wrapping me in a warm blanket that is soft and precious, yet has been worn by many.

I opened the desk drawer clumsily. The previous contents of the drawer were covered in papers that had been stored away for many years. I found a thin diary that was worn from lots of use. The sight of the diary caused my heart to skip a beat because I had forgotten it... or I was pretending that I had forgotten it. My writing is childish.

On the pages were the names of my friends and my brother. In the notes, I recorded the times we played, and how countless times my brother stood beside me whenever I was afraid during life’s hardest moments.. My hands shook as I read the words on the pages and remembered the feelings. He was taken away from me too soon, and I had to learn to live as if it did not break my heart in two and rip me apart from inside my body.

Suddenly the air around me intensified in weight.

As the air grew heavier and darker, it slowly created a space for another feeling. A chill travelled down my spine. Not an experience of fear, but rather one of recognition.

I heard the creaking of the floor behind me, but it did not sound as if it were the boards creaking; it sounded as if something heavy was behind me, pressing me against the floor. I turned.

In the doorway stood my brother. This was not his shadow nor was it the memory of him; he stood here before me, with the same crooked smile, with the same expression of recognition on his face when I was afraid of the dark. Now, he had deeper eyes as though they had seen a lot of things that I had yet to experience.

"You are late," he stated.

I did not listen to his voice; I could feel it coming from inside of me. My knees buckled beneath the weight of what I had just heard.

"I lost you," I said, and tears escaped from my eyes. "I have been unable to say that every day of my life."

He walked closer to me, and while he did not touch me, I felt his warm breath wrap around my body.

"You have not lost me," he said. "You simply learned to walk on a side of life where I was not present."

My eyes filled with tears. "I was angry with you," I screamed silently.

He simply smiled knowingly at me, "I was also angry, at myself for not being able to remain with you. I watched you so much; I watched you fight against all the things that tried to destroy your spirit."

The light around him began to dim like an old photo that had faded with time.

"Are you going to leave again?" I asked.

"I have never left you; you have just now chosen to see me again," he replied.

As he spoke those words, he began to fade away from my sight. Gently, as if he had been taken away on a gentle breeze running through the air.

I made my way down the hallway. The old wooden toy fire engine rolled under my legs to the floor, and I smiled at the fact that I had met my brother again after all of the time that had passed.

Outside the sun was starting to set, and the sunlight shining outside the house made me know that I no longer had to stay inside the house. There were things in life that I did not need to own; they would always own me.

I turned away from the house, and I knew deep in my heart that it was not a memory of my brother; it was a house that would continue to hold all that I had experienced and remembered until the end of time.