Sunlight Whispers

stock photo : Church stained-glass window with sunlight shining through   I keep hearing little noises in my house. Thinking it was mice, I bought D-Con to take care of those little buggers, but the sounds haven’t gone away.

     The noises never wake me up and they’re not scary. I only hear them during the day, when I’ve opened the curtains in my living room, when I’m playing the piano and when I run my hands through the little dusty streams coming through my stained glass window as the sun shines through them.

     There it goes again do you hear it? A child’s shriek of laughter; giggling, joy, the occasional sob and a little voice asking for a Band-Aid and then a question, “Who are you? Do you like my house?”

     I’ve lived in this house for seventy years and today will be the last day anyone will ever reside in it. My son allowed me to stay here through today; he knows how much I love this house. It holds my history; I was born here, married in the back yard, had my first child in the upstairs hall. I lived every day of my marriage here and held my husband as he passed on home.

     After standing three hundred years they’re tearing it down. I guess it’s time to put it to rest.

     Still I will miss it and walking through the house and I gently touch the wood of the walls, run my hands over the doors; rub the floor with my feet, so smooth. It’s still beautiful in spite of its fragile age. Sighing out loud, I hear the giggles again and the question, “Who are you? Do you like my house?”

     No, they’re not ghosts. They’re my memories; whispers of yesterday and I can take them with me wherever I go.

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2 responses to this post.

  1. Full of beautiful emotions and memories..It is so touching..when you belonged to something and something belonged to you..you just cannot leave it and go..
    I could almost feel the pain..
    Wonderful write!

    Reply

    • I remembered my grandmother and the love she had for the home she was born in. She was also married there and lived there until the day she died. She would always touch the wood and tell me how wonderful it felt; it was so smooth and full of life. She would say that she could almost hear the voices of all the people who’d lived there before her and feel their joy, happiness and sadness.
      She also taught me that you’re never too old to play with the rays of sunshine that peek in your window and I continue to do it. I did again this morning. Thanks for the comment and the visit Alcina! Be blessed.

      Reply

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