I had been here before, a long time ago but it seemed different now. I know things change through the years but it wasn’t that. It was the way I was seeing it that made it so different.
The trees around the house had grown over the years and I was sad to see the oak I had sat under as I devoured my summer reading list was gone. I remember I would immerse myself in stories of young heroic girls while blocking out the noise from inside.
I could almost hear it now, the sounds from those last days. My mother was screaming at her sister, my favorite aunt. My father’s name kept coming up again and again.
Inside seemed smaller than it had when I had visited here as a child. I remember thinking this place was so grand with its glass chandeliers and imposing staircase. I climbed the steps and the squeak was the same.
I visited the room I slept in as a child. I remember it being so beautiful. My aunt had decorated in pink and white especially for me. I looked at it now and it seemed charming but dated. I supposed it was.
Down the hall my aunt’s room was quite different from I remember. She probably had redecorated many times over the years but we never came back after that summer. A painting of her hung over the mantel. The young beautiful aunt I remembered from my childhood seemed to be smiling just for me. By her bedside a picture of her with my father; laughing hysterically and looking very much in love.
My parents stayed together until they were separated by death and although I know they loved each other very much I never saw that sparkle in my father’s eye or a smile like that on the face of my mother.
This story is in response to the Word Challenge Prompt: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/build-your-own/