When I arrived at the front of my house I just stood there and looked at it
for a second.
There was Lily, her red hair, that her and I shared, standing out against the white paint of the house, sitting in the window seat staring off into space. I could see Petunia, up on her bed, reading a book. Is this how my house was going to be now? It looked as if it felt our every emotion and reflected it.
I clunked up the porch steps and stepped inside. Lily was still sitting at the window, but turned to look at me when I came in. She stood up and gave me a big hug. We stood there hugging for a good while. It was as though we were holding onto each other and could never let go in fear of loosing each other.
Her tears dripped down onto my shoulder making it wet and cold. I could tell she was smelling daddy's sweater and remembering, remembering everything.
Finally, mum came home from work looking exhausted, and not to mention dreadful.
She turned on the stove and started making dinner.
The house seemed to swell with warmth, it made our cold house seem welcoming and warm. It felt good.
Petunia came down stairs, ignoring Lily and I's gaze. It was annoying. What was her problem anyway?
About twenty minutes later we sat around the table slurping up our soup. All the laughter that engulfed our conversation was gone. Daddy's seat at the end of the table was eerily empty but still held him at the same time.
So there we were, sitting in silence, eating and being depressed. That's when I realized tomorrow was Lily and I's eleventh birthday.
There was Lily, her red hair, that her and I shared, standing out against the white paint of the house, sitting in the window seat staring off into space. I could see Petunia, up on her bed, reading a book. Is this how my house was going to be now? It looked as if it felt our every emotion and reflected it.
I clunked up the porch steps and stepped inside. Lily was still sitting at the window, but turned to look at me when I came in. She stood up and gave me a big hug. We stood there hugging for a good while. It was as though we were holding onto each other and could never let go in fear of loosing each other.
Her tears dripped down onto my shoulder making it wet and cold. I could tell she was smelling daddy's sweater and remembering, remembering everything.
Finally, mum came home from work looking exhausted, and not to mention dreadful.
She turned on the stove and started making dinner.
The house seemed to swell with warmth, it made our cold house seem welcoming and warm. It felt good.
Petunia came down stairs, ignoring Lily and I's gaze. It was annoying. What was her problem anyway?
About twenty minutes later we sat around the table slurping up our soup. All the laughter that engulfed our conversation was gone. Daddy's seat at the end of the table was eerily empty but still held him at the same time.
So there we were, sitting in silence, eating and being depressed. That's when I realized tomorrow was Lily and I's eleventh birthday.