An overwhelming sense of gloom enveloped me as I passed through the empty rooms. I wandered aimlessly trying to grasp the reality of the moment, but also trying to grab hold of anything tangible to keep me there. In mere minutes I would be leaving this home, yet it already felt as if it had left me.
The family room was void of all furniture, the couch I’d spent so many hours napping on, now a vacant space. The tv my siblings and I sat around our whole lives, only displayed images in my memory now. I stepped barefoot on to the carpeted floor, hoping to keep the comforting softness on my feet as long as I could.
I slowly I walked toward the far side of the room and gazed out the window into a still backyard. Ghostly vestiges of childhood adventures began appearing. I could see myself running through the yard with my friends, all of us much younger than we are now. More phantoms appeared on the swings, on the slides, all of them bearing my face, yet they weren’t the same, each one representing a different era. I lingered here for many moments, trying to leave, but the weight of the memories held me there.
Once I finally broke free I ventured on through the house, arriving at my childhood bedroom. I gazed in, to find it no longer bearing any sign of my existence. It was a strange sight, something so familiar to me, seemed so foreign, it was as if the spirit of the room had left. The walls of that room and those throughout the house seemed dulled, as though the house was mourning the loss of those it had known for so many years. I continued my final passage through the silent home, coming to a stop at the front door. Opening the door for the final time, I stepped out into the rain.