My Angel

I

He pushed the old wooden door ajar and walked inside, the warm yellow light and the soft melodies inviting him in and invoking a series of old, forgotten memories.

“Hello?”, Grayson called out in hopes of an answer, though he wasn’t exactly surprised when none came. Afterall, he’d been walking through his old neighbourhood all day, and the only thing that was consistent with the times was Grayson himself. Not that he remembered much of it anyways, since his parents moved out when he was three.

And even then, the one thing that bothered him the most was that every house he’d been to, the streets, the parks, the entire fucking neighbourhood itself, all of it had been painfully empty. Don’t get him wrong, the town itself was very serene and despite Long Valley being a favourite vacation hotspot, nothing much happened on a daily basis. The families, including his ancestors had lived here for generations, but it was the fact that even the thought of his childhood home being this silent and empty left Grayson very unsettled and with an eerie feeling at the pit of his stomach.

Earlier, he had looked around and found himself admiring the scenic view. The town was located right beside Jersey’s biggest lake, encased by ridges and mountains on all the sides, making it the perfect chill out destination for Morris.

It also made for the perfect way to send his brain into overdrive and Grayson couldn’t help but think; was he really dead? If so, was this heaven? or was this some kind of an elaborate prank? OR was his mind playing tricks on him? It definitely wouldn’t be the first time, Grayson thought. He also didn’t wanna leave, no matter the circumstances, the place reminded him of home, of good times, of campfires and laughter around Christmas trees in winter, a sense of family, a sense of home, a sense of belonging, something he had craved ever since his family moved to New York.

Grayson loved the feeling of being here, where he belonged, but at the same time he couldn’t decipher this weird feeling in the back of his mind, the one that told him that all of this was temporary and he could never truly be home, it put him on an edge and he couldn’t control the cold shiver that went throughout his body.

The sound of soft jazz and cheerful laughter lured him in deeper inside the house. He looked around the halls, the feeling of heavy nostalgia bubbling in his stomach. The carpet, a standard patterned floral in perfect shades of brown and ochre, the red cherry wallpapers, long faded by now, covered in old yellowing photographs, the glass encasing glinting and as shiny as ever. Someone must have come and taken care of the house after his grandad passed away.

He went through the photos one by one, almost touching each one lightly but then refraining at the last second, he even recognised himself in a few pictures. It was good, old times. Everyone was laughing, everyone looked happy. He recognised his parents in most of the pictures, some before him, some in which his mom was pregnant, wearing a pretty, yellow sundress  as his dad lay a loving hand on her belly, he recognised some, again, with baby him, a toy in hand and a pacifier in his mouth, almost all of them with the family.

God! It felt so tragic, Grayson grimaced, what even happened? How did they become so apart?

He was lost in memories and walking past the staircase when his eyes fell on an old drawing and wait! was that the first drawing he did when he was two years old? The stick figurines of a mother and father holding their child stared back at him and Grayson was transported back to one of his earliest memories, splashing around with paint and leaving little handprints at the bottom of the wall, and then, when baby him decided it wasn’t good enough, he proceeded to draw all over the wall, and Grayson will never forget the moment when his Papi found him and tried to give him a stern talking but failed miserably, with his mother giggling uncontrollably in the background.