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If These Walls Could Talk

As I open the door to my childhood home one last time, I feel all these emotions rush through me. I
cried. Tears of sadness because this was my childhood home. Tears of happiness as
well because of the new adventure and growth elsewhere that awaits. When I walk inside the house is bare nothing left but clean hardwood floor, a shiny fireplace and mantle. A clean and spotless kitchen and pantry. I go downstairs to the basement. Nothing is left but the yellow walls and empty white shelving in the first room and the second room across the dark gray walls. As I walk back
upstairs to the main floor, I stop and think for a moment if these walls could talk. These walls
would say thank you for the memories, thank you for the good times, the bad times, the hard
times, the sad times, the times of joy and celebration. I continue my last walk through the house, as I make my way upstairs. I walk into the master bedroom which was my parent’s room, and I think to
myself If these walls could talk, they would say: thank you for the lesson’s learned. Thank you for
the good times, thank you for the bad times, but most of all thank you for the love. I walk into
my sisters’ rooms and if the walls could talk: they would say thank you for showing me love,
thank you for showing me togetherness, thank you for showing me peace, and thank you for
showing me support. When I walk into my old room I sat down in the middle of the empty floor
and room with tears in my eyes and thought if these walls could talk to me, they would say thank
you for the love and the memories.


Erin Maixner, the author of this piece.

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