Monday, March 15, 2010

If Walls Could Talk....

I was born in Knoxville, Tennessee on November 2, 1989. I lived with my mom on a little back road out in the middle of nowhere. Growing up the first place I remember living was in a single wide trailer on the land my grandparents allowed my mom to inhabit. It was small but just enough for me and my mother. We eventually did a trailer upgrade and somehow acquired a brand new double wide, which was really nice. At this time my little brother, Wayne had joined our little family, so I was so excited I finally had my own room. This spacious double wide is where most of my childhood memories were made.

This past week I went back home for spring break. The trailer is now up for sale and Saturday night I spent my last night there. As I lay there on a blow up mattress in the room that used to be my mothers, I began to think of all those times I had in that room. I tried to remember the good times although I found myself thinking more of the bad. In that moment I thought, if these walls could talk would the people coming to look and possibly buy still consider living here?

Imagine for a second that you are looking for a house and instead of the cheesy realtor talking about all the space and blah, blah, blah, the walls instead told the story of previous owners. If the walls at my old home could talk it may say something like this...

The couple walks into the bedroom to the right of the hall in the back part of the house, as they step into the room they begin to hear a story. The story of a little girl and her younger brother. It takes the couple back to a cold winters night, where two little kids are hoping for something special to happen. It's Christmas Eve and the little boy had snuck into his sisters room. They are laying in the bed whispering waiting to hear Santa's arrival. They smile at each other as they talk about what kind of gifts they will receive, how they can't wait to see their mom's face when she opens her gift they had worked so hard to make. The children then drift of to sleep holding hands. As the walls finish the memory the couple moves into the kitchen to hear another story of how when it was cold in the mornings before school the kids would sit facing each other on the air vents, giggling and watching their mother make coffee.

Although the experience for this couple would not be as pleasant if the walls had chosen to speak of other memories that took place throughout my life. I still feel sad when I think of the trailer being sold. It was my home and regardless of the bad memories, they were still my memories and apart of my life. My grandmother says I have to let it go and move on. I know she is right but a part of me doesn't want to see it go. I wonder who will live there and the kind of memories they will make.

Since I had always dreamed of building a house in the woods where I played its harder for me to let go, but now I'm trying to move on and change my dreams. The trailer will be sold in less than 6 months according to my grandfather so I have to let it go even if I'm not ready. I just pray the people that move there make good memories and give the walls something good to remember. :-)

1 comment:

  1. I totally get this. I felt the same way when we moved from our old house. It was as if the house had a soul and it could hear me saying goodbye.