Love, Memories, and Home

Beat, beat, beat. 

I squeezed my eyes shut. The hum of the house not leaving my brain. I took a long, shaky breath and pushed the door open. 

Home

Smudged paint lined the room. A beautiful purple.

“It’s been a while.” I whispered to no one in particular. The house seemed to smile at me, like a long-lost friend. I took a small step forward, streaking my fingers along the wall. My feet knew where I was going before I did. I smiled as kids ran past me, giggling softly. Then disappearing. I continued down the hall, walking into the kitchen. 

A warm woman stood in the middle of the room, little kids running up to her. She was doused in flour. Those warm brown eyes. 

“Darling,” the woman said softly, looking up at me. She looked me in the eye. Then she was gone. Like a whisper in the wind. The kids grinned and ran off into another room. I followed quietly behind. 

“Sarah, stop going so fast.” A little voice yelled, sweet and familiar. 

“Sorry, Mabel, it's not my fault I’m fast!” Sarah called back. 

I continued toward the voices. I stumbled into Sarah’s room. Blankets filled the space. A glimmer of sunlight shone through the window. My feet glided along the floor as I came up to the window. I sat down on the window seat, doing it without a second thought. The wood creaked as I sat down, but it was peaceful. 

“Meow.” I heard behind me. Turning, I saw a tiny kitten coming up to me. I tilted my head softly. 

“Hello, Kitty.” My only response was the kitten jumping up on the window seat beside me. I reached my hand out. For a second, it hesitated. Then the kitten came closer. It seemed to remember me. Right when I was about to touch it, it faded away like it was never there. The laughing in the background grew more and more with each passing second. A sigh escaped my lips as I stood back up. Each step of my foot clicked against the ground. A clock ticked. I finally turned down the hall toward another room. A sign hung on the door, slightly crooked. My hand touched the handle, so familiar. I opened the door quietly. I just stood in the doorway for a moment. 

“Hi,” a tiny voice squeaked behind me. I turned to the voice. 

“Hello,” I breathed, going down to her level. 

“My name's Mabel.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mabel.” I said to her, meeting her eyes.

“You look like you need a hug,” she said, the way little kids do. No filter in the slightest.

“I do,” I told her, eyes stinging. She wrapped her little arms around me. I melted into her, relaxing. 

“Goodbye,” she murmured. 

And just like that she was gone. I closed my eyes, a soft smile on my face. 

“Mabel! I think that’s the last box! It’s time to go.” 

“Coming!” I yelled back, standing up. I glanced behind me, looking around the room. 

“Goodbye, I’ll always remember you.” 

I walked to the front where my sister stood. 

“Am I the only one who’s going to miss this place?” She asked, looking up at the smudged paint walls.

“No. Who could?”

“Come on.” She said sweetly, swinging her arm through mine. “I’m still faster.”

I laughed as we walked out the door. 

10 years later

“Mommy, where are you taking us?” 

“Somewhere special.” I replied to my daughter. 

“Like an amusement park?!” My son cheered excitedly. 

“Not exactly, sweetheart.” 

I led my kids into the house. The same paint lined the walls. I held my breath to see if the kids liked it. 

“Mommy, why is there flour on the floor?” My daughter asked. Before I could answer, my son spoke first.

“Can we make a snowman out of it? Or a flour man?!” A grin spread across my face. He spun around the room. Falling into one couch. 

“Do you two like it here?” I finally asked the question.

“Do I get my own bedroom?” My son asked, rushing off before I could tell him yes. 

My daughter looked up at me with her sweet eyes. 

“Can you show me?” 

“Yes.” I agreed immediately, eyes wide with excitement. I held her little hand as we walked through the house. I led her to my old room. The sign still hanging lopsided. She pressed her hand against the door, opening it. 

“Mommy, whose room is this?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because there’s a girl in it.” She answered, pointing ahead. 

“She looks like me, is she me?”

“You could say that.” She turned her little head and looked up at me. I knelt down to her level. 

“She’s mommy.” 

“Mommy was a lot happier back then, would you be happy if we came back here?” 

“Oh, honey,” I said, putting my hand on her cheek. “This isn’t just my home, it’s yours too.” I pulled out a pink marker, her favourite colour. 

“Do you want to write your name on the door?” I asked, holding out the marker to her.

She nodded her head and took it. 

“Come on, let’s go get your brother.” We walked toward Sarah’s old room and heard my son yell, 

“I call this room!” A brilliant smile appeared on my daughter's face. 

“Who wants to make cookies?” I asked excitedly. 

“Me! Me! Me!” they both yelled in unison. 

Later that day.

My daughter and I stared up at the beautiful sign we made together. Declaring this wasn’t just my home. It was hers, too. 

“I’m finished with the cookies!” My son yelled from the kitchen. We both walked in. Luckily, he seemed to have done a good job. We came up and we all bit into the cookie. 

“How much salt did you put in?” My daughter coughed. 

“A tablespoon, like the packet said.” She looked at him in surprise, and I spun around grabbing the box. 

“It says teaspoon!” I said, laughing my head off. They both joined in. 

“Home, sweet home.” I whispered quietly enough that they didn’t hear. They were just shoving flour into each other’s faces. A ran over to them, wrapping them in a bear hug. We fell to the ground, all laughing together.