Friday, October 16, 2015

The House of Our Childhood

Friday, October 16, 2015

As the sun begins to set we feel the chill of the fog wafting through the windows whose rotten wooden frames, barely hanging together, we painstakingly tried to conceal behind handsewn curtains made of the cheapest fabric we could find.  It permeates each room of the house, touching the sloping, mildew-patterned walls, seeping into the battered couch sagging under the weight of accumulated years, grazing the shelf bursting with books whose presence in that house is our sole source of material pride. It drifts toward the precarious-looking but ever-sturdy ladder then downstairs with its uneven concrete floor, unpainted walls, paneless windows, and doorless doors.The cool air lingers and slowly blends with the palpable odor of molds--the smell of our childhood.

5 comments:

Loree said...

Beautiful description.

Angeli Picazo said...

Thank you, Loree.

Chia Picazo-Rivera said...

Na-miss ko naman ang bahay sa Baguio. Tulad ng bahay ni Heaven Leigh.

Angeli Picazo said...

Nakakalungkot nga pag iniisip ko. Pero at least marami tayong masasayang araw doon. :)

Angeli Picazo said...

Nakakalungkot nga pag iniisip ko. Pero at least marami tayong masasayang araw doon. :)

 
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