Last (40)

A House is not a home

7. A House is not a home

There are things that you should let go, like spoon and fork when you’re done eating your dinner, like the soap after you take a bath and the things you love just for the betterment of your own life. But letting go of the things can make a great impact in our lives. If we still hold on to the spoon and for, we might not have a chance to hold the soap. If we still hold the soap, we might got no chance to press the remote and watch American Idol.

Let go, that’s what I did. That’s what Granny the Great told me. I was blessed by Patient X and inherit the toughness of Patient Z and the charisma of Patient Y. I felt like a 3-in-1 Hershey during Christmas Eve.

The car played the song:

A chair is still a chair

Even when there's no one sitting there.

But a chair is not a house

And a house is not a home

When there's no one there to hold you tight

And no one there you can kiss goodnight.

A room is still a room

Even when there's nothing there but gloom.

But a room is not a house

And a house is not a home

When the two of us are far apart.

And one of us has a broken heart.

Once again, I sat in between my parents, sandwiched by the two real fools in my life. But still, I couldn’t stop myself but to smile. I felt like a free bird, spreading my wings and felt the air. Yes the air was great as it went inside the car. It was a different kind of feeling, like I was in trance. Not only the air felt good, but also the view. After seven years, everything changed but the sun and the big blue sky remains the same.

The car turned right, then left and then left. Finally, I saw our old house, our lawn and the bougainvilleas that separate our house and Ed’s house. It was a quiet afternoon as we walked on the pathway. My heart started to beat fast like a drum roll. Mom opened the door and as I stepped on the floor that I missed, I gasped in surprise.

“WELCOME BACK MEGAN!” they all shouted, as I saw a banner hanging on the ceiling. One by one they hugged me: my neighbors, my not so close friends, their parents, Kippy and Chip Walker.

“Welcome back, Meg,” he said, and smiled at me. He smelled unusual, like a burnt cigarette. Chip looked different. He got this long wavy dirty hair, pierced nose, and earrings. He still got his big muscles and bulging chest. He wrapped his arms around me.

“Thanks.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

Father cleared his throat and said, “Let’s celebrate!”

“Hurray!”

“HURRAAAAAYYY!”

Yes, it was a celebration held in our lawn. Not a birthday celebration, but I looked a like. My friends asked if I was doing great and I answered them, “I’m blessed.”

I stopped talking to my friends about Dickenson when I noticed not so familiar face in the party.

“Who’s that guy?”

“Oh, that’s Edward.”

“Edward?”

“Yep. He changed a lot right?”