Drawn To Home
Drawn to home
I am always drawn back to places where I have lived. The houses. The neighbourhoods.
The house in front of me was friendly. To me. In truth it was dark and gloomy, the sort of house that mean kids wold dare you to go inside.
Yet when I lived here it was a castel, a forest, a cave, a pirate ship. It was where I could be a princess or a pirate. It was my sanctuary. My home. My special place. Then my mum died in a car accident.
My dad could not keep up with the payments and we were forced to leave this special place. Within a few short days we had to leave it behind. Leave my friend Little Red Riding Hood behind. I could almost see her now, sitting on the front steps with a younger me. I walked away.
The apartment that we lived in next was just a few streets away. The windows were boarded up. The glass broken. The door hanging by only one hinge. Almost on the dirt covered floor but not quite. It was barley hanging on, just like this place.
When I lived here I ran into a new friend. Alice. She was from Wonderland. When I came home from school she would meet me at the bottom of the stairs. Then we would both race up the. She always got there first. I could still hear her laughing. Not at me. Never at me but with me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a white rabbit next to an old broken watch. Oh, the irony. Again, I walked away.
When my dad died I was forced to live with my gran. She was fine but having raised only a son she was not brilliant. Still, she tried. Her house was knocked down years ago.
Now I stood in front of another house. This one was different. This one was new. Had people living in it. Had no bad memories. This house was the happiest. It is where I live now. Through the window I could see the babysitter reading to my little girl. Down the road a car turned onto the street. I turned back to the house.
This house would have no sad memories. One day my daughter may come by here and she will smile at some happy memory as I do now. She would smile at the echo of her childhood. At the friends that stepped out of her books. Of the parents that loved her.
I turned and the last thing I saw were bright white car lights.
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