Posted by: DIYwriting | April 15, 2022

Memories

“Without memories, who are we anyway?  Without memories how would we learn?”  I stared down the hallway and wondered what would come next. 

It had been so long since I had been in the house, I wasn’t sure if my memories were even correct.  Or even real?  Was it a real memory of me laughing and chasing my brother down this very hallway?  Did I really own that pair of penguin pajamas I had obsessed over for so long? I guess it didn’t matter if they were real or not as long as they were happy memories. I didn’t have many happy memories of my childhood so I had to hang on to the few I did have. 

My mother had left us after we lost the house and my father never took a single photograph after she left.  He never wanted to talk about those years partially because it was painful for all of us.  

But now our old house was set to be demolished, I was desperate to know what was real and what wasn’t.  I had snuck through the fencing to get inside and wasn’t sure if I should be surprised or not the front door was unlocked. I don’t think any of the contractors were expecting anyone to want to get near this house after what had happened three years ago. 

I wasn’t surprised to see the skeleton in the wall that had been partially knocked down, I just wondered whose body it was. 


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