Wednesday, April 17, 2013


I'm haunted by the house I grew up in. Two dreams in two hours - not the first, certainly not the last.

We walked away from that house when my parents divorced and medical bills forced foreclosure and more. We left the bank to clean up most of our belongings. Slowly we all trickled out, went our separate ways, never looking back.

Now, someone else lives there, in the bedroom where I listened to the birds coo and the train horns blast and the falling rain flow through the gutter. In the hallway where the pets played by day and I sometimes slept at night, too lonely to stay in my bed. Someone else eats in that kitchen, sits on that porch, tends that garden. Maybe they have remodeled, made it the house we never could.

My memories are stuck floating around that house, left to dream about what was or what could have been. Sometimes we're back there as a family; others, it's been abandoned by us, furniture and games and dishes still strewn about, a place we haven't fully left yet but don't care for in the meantime.

Why can't I just move away already, and release the ghost that still follows me 10 years after I took my things and left?