15 Sep

Every time I go back to the house, it’s the same as it was when I was a kid. The back porch is still a dusty office, and my dad is always there working, organizing papers and typing on that old IBM.

Yesterday it was like in those Christmas movies, when the ghost of the past takes you to your old life. No one could see me. But I saw my dad working, and my brother in the basement surrounded by piles of old boxes and art projects from when we were little. There was too much stuff and I had a feeling there would be a fire and my brother would get trapped inside. I tried to tell them, but they couldn’t hear. So I said to no one, I can’t control the outcome. I will just roll with it.


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