At first, the house was sinister. Tall oaks loomed over the house, brushing the house in the wind, giving nightmares of creatures scratching the walls to the children. The long, shady meandering drive travelled through the forest, which the house away. The eerie half-renovated basement with one singular lightbulb that cast long disquieting moving shadows on the walls. The steps that would squeak when no one was there, the windows that would slam when no one had touched them, the wind that howled as it moved through open windows down empty hallways. These parts of the house made it seem haunted, scary, and formidable. The backyard pool was filled with unswimmable, murky water home to ducks and frogs. But we grew into and transformed the strange house. It was filled with warmth and light and noise and an abundance of children and eventually you couldn’t hear the creaks and squeaks as our growing family filled every room. The house was big enough that each individual could grow and be ‘individual’ and yet we were still united under one roof as a family. The forest was enlivened by shrieking children playing childhood games in the treehouse and tire swing we built one sunny summer Saturday afternoon. The house was renovated and transformed into the glorious home it deserved. For 12 years we made the house ours. It was the perfect childhood home, full of memories that will remain forever. First words, first steps, first days of school. But a child's home should remain in the past, unblemished by the innocent future.
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My children grew up to follow their ambitions and dreams, dreams for their own spooky house they could transform with love and life. However, the children all left, one by one, until somehow, I abruptly realized, I lived alone, in a big, sinister house, like it once was. I was alone with the ghosts of the house, I was living in the past, and I knew I had to leave too. This house was filled with countless special moments, full of happy, fond memories, memories that carved our souls and molded our beings. This house strengthened our bond as a family but could simultaneously make our characters flourish and thrive. Childhood memories bound by this house shaped my children into the adults they are today, such as the long drive where they would ride their bikes and skateboards up and down, up and down each day every day when they were too young to have started school. The renovated backyard pool where they were taught how to swim, and where all three would swim every day in the summer break. The kitchen where I taught them all to cook. The basement where they played their video games and hung out with friends every weekend in high school. The living room and backyard were where we hosted lavish graduation parties for each of them, celebrating their leaving for college. The front yard where they used to practice their different sports every day after school, football, basketball, softball, but now where the for-sale sign now stands, with a large for-sold sticker plastered across it. I stand in the middle of the dining room thinking about what was, and what will happen when I walk out of the house for the last time. For now, I’m left alone with the stifling silence for the final time.
The bedrooms that once belonged to the children have been empty for a couple of years now. As I walk through each of them, I see my children grow up in front of my very eyes, a flash of memories. The first day with each of them and the last. The house wasn’t designed for one person, this was a family house. So much so you can almost feel the house’s despair and yearn for new people, for new stories. A new family is moving in, I can already see the memories they’ll make here. In a new place, I can start over and keep this part of my memory locked up. And when I remember this house, I will only remember my family and the good moments. It wasn’t that I outgrew this house, it outgrew me, but it will always be a part of me like I will always be a part of it. I’m leaving this place behind, closing this chapter, and moving on to the next stage of life, alone, while the house waits to be brought to life again. I close the door for the final time and leave this sinister house and its ghosts behind.
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