Writing Prompt #121 “NoEnd House Part 4″ – Remember when…

kenopsia

The kids quickly called it the ghost room

What was once the lounge room

The family meeting place

Where we sat around the fire on winter nights

Listening to each others stories

Celebrating the joy of Christmas

Birthdays and gatherings of family.

A room that bustled with life taken from us

Replaced with an open space where we all fitted

Admittedly in more comfort

But with out the heart of the old room.

Now it sadly sits in front of the house

Neglected except for the occasional dust

The sometimes visit of mislaid friends

Who admire your handiwork.

The effort you made to provide us with a ‘good ‘ room

Made inaccessible.

Kids were banned from the space

God forbid they sat on the new lounge

That their dirty feet soiled the carpet

A white pile, which I could never understand.

Children are grubby, its how they are

They bring dirt in with them

They soil where they walk.

So the room has been consigned history

Along with its energy and its life.

Today we gathered around my table

Remember when one said….

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/08/23/writing-prompt-115-noend-house-part-3%E2%80%B3/

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17 Responses to Writing Prompt #121 “NoEnd House Part 4″ – Remember when…

  1. Valida Faire says:

    Wow, you do these so movingly, Michael. I almost felt I was there, could feel the lost bustle, replaced with memories.

  2. Lyn says:

    How sad. In the effort to have a “good” room, it ended up cold and austere. I remember the lounge room at my Aunty and Nana’s flat in Randwick. Huge old well-worn lounge and armchairs. You could always find newspapers, magazines and the occasional penny or sixpence under the cushions. Oh how I loved going there. The block of flats is still there. How I would love to visit it once more, though I guess the inside would be completely different now. LOL I even remember my Aunt’s phone number — FX3830. How things have changed.

    • Goodness you are going back a while Lyn. Things do change don’t they, what started out as a ‘good’ idea turned a bit sour really, especially when the kids referred to it as the ghost room, all that remained were the ghosts of their pasts….

  3. I agree with Valida you brought me to the room, to the house, made me a part of your poem. I really like “mislaid friends” and I agree with you about kids, I think my daughter is made of sand

  4. My aunt had a room like that. She kept plastic on the couch and chairs in the “formal” room. Her hands were always red and chapped from bleach-a compulsive cleaner. I always felt sorry for my cousins. Your poem paints a sad picture.

  5. julespaige says:

    I had a relative who had a ‘dead’ living-room. Such a waist. I remember the couch and chairs also had plastic covers – Oh I see others had similar relatives too. Those rooms/ that room was for company… but when we, as children visited, we were family, not company. So we never saw the room used.

    The choices some folks make. I vowed that all of my rooms in any home I owned would be ‘living-rooms’.

    Thank you for visiting the fourth room. ~Jules

  6. mj6969 says:

    You captured the essence of loss and hunger – in the sense that people need to be fed and nourished – cherished for who and how they are – that it isn’t about the space and furnishings, but the interactions and love shared within the walls. Superbly sensitive writing Michael.

    And for what it’s worth – we had a “living room” – where any living rarely took place – and a play room – for us to lounge about it – but generally, I can say, quoting one of my counselors from years ago “I grew up in a house will ‘no people prints.’ “

Please feel free to comment, I appreciate your thoughts.

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