We plan to leave this house in 7 months or so. We've been here going on 9 years; this is the longest I've lived anywhere since I was a kid. This little, grey house on the corner, built in 1938, is not without it's charm...hardwoods, nooks, built-in shelves, scalloped wood detailing, and trees outside that grow lush for summertime. When it's windy and warm, the song of their sway goes deep into your lungs and breaths for you, if you let it. In the Fall, you have all pecans you need for Thanksgiving, all the time giving. The front door faces north, so when a cold front rolls through, the wind pushes our old door in, and the windchime, typically lazy, becomes frantic and loud. This is how I know to reach for a warmer jacket. What she lacks are washer/dryer connections, and I'm officially over the laundromat, truth be told. She lacks modern heat and air. The summer is dreadful, but the watermelon you cut up and eat on the front porch is all the more sweet and satisfying. The winter is bone cold! But I love the sound of the space heater at night, glowing red and purring as we sleep, covered in heavy, soft blankets, we listen as the wind and freezing rain howls and knocks at our rickety windows. If she were human, she'd be an old lady, and in what has been nearly a decade, she's watched me turn into one, myself.
I decided to watch a black and white movie alone. I love doing that because I love b/w movies, and it makes me feel like my mother is watching with me. Sometimes I'll even ask her questions. And I wonder if my husband will hear me speaking to myself and wonder why. "mom, who's that actor?" sometimes I look around to see if maybe she decides to answer me. from up there. tell me things about this movie no one else would know. because they aren't movie people like us. a few nights ago I fell asleep. and then the darkness came with the fear that likes to rent space inside my heart, the scared piece of it. the smell of fear in my nose and on my tongue. I woke to the acrid air, my lips mumbling. I know it's that damn couch that likes to give me nightmares. falsely lulling me. black and white movie music. until I feel shaky and sick. but I can't tell won't ever tell what happened in that bad bad dream. those are words I don't dare ...
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