This old house has sheltered more than most. I can’t seem to keep her from it. She sat empty for so long. You can just feel she loves life bursting through her rooms and doorways. Laughter, irritation, friendship, loneliness. She thrills to it all. But we’re tired -her humble permanent residents. So with my baby brother gone and the days it took me to clean, put things back in their proper places, work towards eradicating his german shorthair pointer hairs (and there were tons). You would think I’d feel relief, freedom. There look to be no wayfarers on the horizon.
Instead I find myself walking into his room and looking out the window. Wondering when he’ll be back from the 50million trips he took to the gym.
Sad. And I’ve told her, I’ve said, “House, you’re wearing off on me. You’re getting into my blood. Missing them all. We need a new hobby.”
If I’ve learned anything. It’s that it’s all worthwhile. So right now. We’re empty; this old house and me.