Writing 101, Day Two: A room with a View

My Parents’ House

I remember that dream vividly…

I must be a high school kid, wearing a short sleeve white shirt, carrying a backpack. I climbed up a narrow staircase and entered a small room. A 30 year old man greeted me. Seeing me rubbing my hands, he asked if I was cold. I said yes. He gave me a sweater to wear and told me wait.

A short while later, he came back and said, “Time to go.”

I followed him walking downstairs, and then we walked next to each other. We were close, but not touching. I felt comfortable and peaceful. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“You’ll find out,” he said.

His body language told me that he was sure I would like the place we were going, and I trusted him. Next thing I knew, we were standing in front of a small yellow house. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I love it! You know I like small town, small house, small car…”

We stood there. I took another look at the house. It looked clean and simple. It was a cozy house. “I like it,” I said again.

“Your parents live here,” he said. My heart jumped out of my body. Before I could utter a word, he added, “They are not home. They are visiting friends now.”

I stared at the house, trying to remember every detail of it: the front porch, the color – what kind of yellow, the landscape…

A few minutes passed. “Ready to go?” he asked.

I nodded. That was when I realized that the house was located on high ground. There were stairs in front of it bringing you down to the street level. That was also when I noticed four people planting flowers next to the stairs. I smiled at them thinking I should thank them, but they seemed not seeing me.

We walked, and walked. Suddenly he stopped and pointed at my chest. I looked down, seeing a necklace with a beautiful pink angel pendant on it.

That was the end of my dream. It was five years after my parents passed away.

That is the place I want to visit!