damage || [continuation of heather]

dearly missed memories -xlviii-

"It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake".- Frederick Douglass

*

*

"What a delicious breakfast! Thanks, babe!", I said, after finishing my pancakes.

We then made the dishes together, Spencer washing them and me drying them before we put on our coats and scarfs, it was fairly cold by now even though the month of October just started a few days back.

Spencer opened the car door for me and I thanked him. He got in as well and we both made sure that our safety belts were secured.

I was truly nervous to get back to the house but I guess there was no going back now.

"Are you sure you want to do this?", Spencer asked, sensing my discomfort.

"To be honest, I'm rather nervous but I'll be fine because you're with me. I have to do this. We'll just look through the rest of the stuff because we need to sell the house."

"You want to sell it?", Spencer asked, his brows raised.

"I guess so. I mean sure, it's the only thing my mother left me besides all the good memories but there are also really bad memories that I connect to that house. Besides, we have our own home now and we don't need this house anymore.", I shrugged.

"You know that you don't have to, though. Just do whatever feels right, okay, babe?"

"I promise.", I smiled at him reassuringly as he patted my knee, concentrating on the road ahead.

-

-

My hand was shaking as I tried to open the door that's why I couldn't get the key in correctly. I had Spencer do it. "Are you really sure?", he asked me concerned.

I nodded and we entered the house together. We put a few empty cartons by the door to put the things we needed to bring into them.

The house was really cold so Spencer went into the living room to fix the fireplace with some wood that was still left there. One could hear the wind howling through the old window frames.

I turned to look at my surroundings. Most of the things were left untouched. Most of the furniture was still where it had been the last time I was here. It nearly seemed like nothing had changed.

There were still a few books on my bookshelves, a few papers on the table on which I drew random feathers and eyes and flowers whenever I was on the phone and on which I noted numbers and names.

Spencer watched me carefully, propping himself up after having successfully lit the fire and making his way to the table which I was looking at. He gathered a few pages of paper into his hands and made his way back to the fireplace.

"Don't need to see these anymore. Better burn them.", he mumbled. The letters. I nodded, thankful that he handled this for me. I hadn't noticed but if I had, I would've probably re-read them.

The flames were now swallowing the white paper, the fire now made a crackling sound and I began to hear raindrops knocking at the window panes of the old house.

I made my way to the book shelve and took the few books that were still on there in my hands.

"My mum always read these to me when I was younger.", I spoke quietly, mustering the old-yellowish pages of Andersen's and the Grimm's Fairy Tales, "I guess I'll read them to our daughter, too."