Solitary Home

The photos that were propped up in frames above the fire place mantle seemed to fold over themselves and shrivel away. The second bedroom with the signed baseball glove was so quiet that it became intimidating. The weeping coming from the other room of their home numbed his body. His mind was the only part of him that had not been given mercy to the harsh, unbearable, and paralyzing reality. The flapping American flag was the only tangible piece that remained after the dreaded letter arrived in navy blue on his door step.

 

Ten Years Later…

 

            The fire place mantle contained only a few frames that glowed with a timeless commitment in white. The emptiness was being saved for the refreshment of life anew and time passing. The second bedroom was but only an egg shell white until the custard yellow would occupy the walls and teddy bears would stroll in. The giggles coming from the other room of their home brought a contagious smile to spread across his face. The plans were already being conjured and the curiosity of future memories was making him burst at the seams. The tattered blanket that was still folded neatly in one of the many boxes would continue to get passed down through his generation.