Picture It And Write It, Prompt #28

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This home stands abandoned now. Left with  rooms filled with whispers of laughter and love from its prior guests. I walked in the front door and sat down in one of the wooden rockers. It squeaked against the old wooden floors. I could remember coming here when I was a child. Hearing the stories of how children had been born and raised here. There were summer reunions held here. All family members made a special trip to this house and they had a feast of many great foods. The children would swim, and fish, and  would venture into nature and look for bugs and insects. I could remember finding a rare bug, and taking  it to show grandpa. He said it was the most beautiful bug he had ever seen. He took one of his old boxes and went to his wife’s sewing box and pulled out a straight pin, and he pinned the bug for me. I kept this in my special place in my bedroom among  the other memories I had collected through the years. There had been weddings here, and funeral dinners held here. It was a home-built with love by my  great grandma and grandpa. I stopped rocking and sat very still. I could hear giggles coming from the kitchen, where children had helped bake home-made cookies.  I scooted my rocker around so it was facing the big living room. The furniture was still in its place, but covered with sheets. I could picture grandpa standing over grandma with a twig of mistletoe at Christmas, and I remember  giggling as I stole  a peek of  them kissing. Lots of memories here. A home filled with love, now standing empty. I placed the rocker back in its original place and placed the sheet over it, to protect the memories and never let them escape. I walked out of the house and shut the door softly, singing to myself.

This story was written by me for a post of Picture It And Write It

__picture it & write

44 thoughts on “Picture It And Write It, Prompt #28”

  4. “This place has potential.” I spoke aloud to the wind and the lake. Visions of former glory rocked my senses as I carefully made my way over the rotting wooden boards that made up the pier. The small house was just as weather worn as the pinnisula itself with holes and broken window sills dotting the structure.
    The cool wind whipped my hair into a frenzy, “Thanks, Grandpa.” I shouted to the lake Gods as a burst of pure joy swept my soul. This is mine! All this is mine.
    As I reached the edge of the property, I knew, deep within my heart, that this place was my destiny. The place I had been longing for since I could dream. Now, I just needed the funds to make my dream a reality. I needed a job. My bubble of joy burst like a giant pin had stuck me, and all my air was released.

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  6. I love the photo, Terry, and the story is excellent. It’s such a quaint old house and looks intriguing. I would love to venture in there too, but I would have to say “ditto” on the spider issue.

    I remember when I was a child and we went every summer to a cottage my grandfather had built by the lake the year I was born (he died when I was 7 and my grandmother died when I was 12). There was a farm nearby owned by a man we called Old Ab. I remember him with a cart and horse. After he died, nothing was done with the land, the house or the barn (as far as I knew, at least). I recall my friend and I exploring around there and we ventured into the house. It was rotting away and there was no furniture that I remember. The stairs to the upper floor looked too dangerous so we didn’t even think about trying to go there. Then we heard this rustling noise and it scared us. We ran all the way back to the cottage. We would have been about 12 I think. The man in the cottage next to ours told us what we had heard – a family of porcupines! But he told us we should never go around there at that time (early evening) because getting close to dusk the bears came out of the surrounding forest to get the fruit off the trees or bushes. I never went back. Actually I think we only went back for one more two-week vacation the following summer because my mother had a fight with her brother that year and decided to sell her share of the cottage. I was really sorry because I loved it there.

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    • if that would have been me at 12 years old, hearing those noises, i would have thought GHOSTS, RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! on the more serious side, that is sad that you can no longer visit. that house must have quite a few great memories. i enjoyed your comment so much , thank you Success!

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      • I did love the cottage, but I loved the whole area. There were only 2 cottages past us and then it was just the cliff behind and a “beach” of large rocks in front by the water. I used to walk down to the point and could sit there for hours (preferably with a cushion) at the water’s edge. I would walk down the dirt road and through country meadows full of black-eyed susans. I loved the peace and the sound of the waves on the shore. I loved (still do) the sound of the gulls. I should imagine that is unusual for a child to enjoy something so “tame”. I did have to learn young, though, what poison ivy was so I could stay away from it. There was a lot of it there. Never did get into it, thankfully.

        Diane

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      • i love the sounds of the waters hitting the edges of land, also love the seagulls, i love everything about water. it sounds like you made great memories and had some solitude times. wish i would have been there with u

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      • I keep thinking that one day I will go back to take pictures. I have a few old black and whites, but I would really like to get some on my digital camera. But it’s a 4 hour drive there and would be much too far to come back the same day. I have a couple of cousins there and might be able to stay over at one of their homes, but my schedule is so full I’m not sure what day I could do it without interfering with my commitments. Maybe some day. I’m not even sure if I can walk down to the point any more as the shore is gradually disappearing into the bay.

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  8. Hey there, Terry. A great melancholic contribution this week. 🙂 I adored this part of your work ‘I placed the rocker back in its original place and placed the sheet over it, to protect the memories and never let them escape.’ Well done! I hope to see you next week at Picture it & write again. 😀

    – Ermisenda

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    • i read it, and i left you a comment on the blog page. you were outstanding. each week you and i should participate in this and share with each other. this makes a special bond for you knowing we have this between us. isn’t it amazing how God can bring two people together through a Picture It and Write It Page..

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      • I think it would be great to be a sounding board for each other. I don’t know if I could get into doing every picture there, some are just too dark for me. But I know some are inspiring, even for poetry, and I would be open to that. I think it would be a great idea to create a special bond of friendship for us that goes beyond the daily and on into the creative and inspiring realm of life. It is so cool that you and I can see the same picture and God inspires us in different ways, and even in similar ways. We both thought of memories with the building, yours about family and home memories, and mine about church and small town life memories. I like the idea. I’ll be watching your blog for a new post of a picture/write post. I did see the one on the tape measure that I though was interesting. I do think this will also encourage us to look at our photos and taking pictures in a new way…as inspiration for stories, and other writing.

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  12. “This home stands abandoned now. Left with rooms filled with whispers of laughter and love from its prior guests.” I have been in homes like this. You get a little glimpse into what kind of home it once was and it sort of settles in your soul. Beautiful imagery. I see a writer in you! Sandy

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