I tap in the numbers on the keypad by the door.
I turn the handle and I walk into the hall.
My eyes alight, briefly, on the stylish spiral staircase that ends in the bedroom that I once shared with my husband.
I turn my head to the left and I survey the living room. It was never really lived in. It’s an inappropriate name.
All the action took place in the family room, the kitchen, or the rec room in the basement where the kids hung out with friends.
Those were filled with noise and laughter. Filled with music. Filled with chatter. But today they’re filled with silence and a slightly musty smell.
The house is on the market – so I open up the windows. I let the fresh air in, and shoo the memories away. This used to be my home; but now I feel like an…
View original post 141 more words