Join the Slice of Life Writing Community @ Two Writing Teachers
Sunday evening. Two children have caught their trains back to the city, and one has just pulled out of the driveway and begun the drive back to college.
The house feels emptied of its soul.
Quietly, the dog and I weave our way through still and lifeless rooms. We pause here and there to pick up odds and ends:
…a ticket stub from a concert
…a to do list in preparation for finals
…stray notes from a paper just submitted
…parking tickets folded over and over, as though to fold them into oblivion
…a business card from a too-cool for the parents restaurant somewhere deep in Brooklyn
…the debris of late night snacks: nibbled apples, the last of the pumpkin pie
…coffee cups, cider mugs, stone cold camomile tea
I stand very still, close my eyes, and can hear their laughter … even the sound of their breathing. They have left the house, true, but they are still here….