The little house across the street had witnessed all kinds of emotion enacted out inside. Over the years, several families had moved in and later moved on.

If it could talk, it would have sung the praises of many families, their valiant efforts to overcome obstacles or hurdles of one kind or another. It had witnessed with joy, hundreds of birthdays, graduations, coming of age and anniversaries.

There was one family in particular that struck a chord and that it could tell tales to curl your hair. This family was closest to its heart.

As with any group of teenagers, emotions ran high or low depending on the current mood swing of the child involved thanks to raging hormones.

The tales the house would tell about this family were of constant humiliation. These teenagers weren’t the happy go lucky teenagers that had passed before them. They walked on egg shells and lacked the confidence of the predecessors before them.

It was difficult to determine where the breakdown had begun. Perhaps their father lacked the ability to understand his children, or had forgotten what it was to be a teenager with deep-seated emotions easily injured and scarred. Whatever the case, these teens weren’t leaving as whole confident and sure of themselves as the house would have liked. If she had the ability, she’d have shaken the ground beneath his feet to wake him up from whatever stupor he resided in.

Instead of bonding as a family should, the house knew the teenagers would leave the nest as quickly as they were capable. They’d cite lack of gratitude, appreciation, respect and most of all the humiliation dished out by their father as the cause.

The house understood that when he was absent, the air was fresher, everyone breathed lighter were happier even joyous and witnessed the reverse upon his return.

Yes indeed, the house had many stories it could tell if only it could talk.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.