that old house

it had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same. She couldn’t believe it hadn’t been destroyed yet, but apparently her grandma actually cared for that place and still took care of it, probably asking sometimes help from her son.

It wasn’t an incredibly expensive house, but it was still more than respectable. It had two floors, but neither were too big. That house was in her memories ever since she can remember being alive, a light brown covering all the walls and full of windows. Now all the windows were closed and the colour of the wall became much darker, probably because of the time. It had a small garden where she used to run and play with her grandparents and, despite the time, it was still full of colourful flowers, very similar to the ones she saw every time she would play outside. As she approached the door, she started to worry, mostly about what she would find inside. She was never too good with insects or dust and yet she felt it was right that she went there to see if everything was alright, after all she was the one they left the home to.

She took a deep breath and tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge at first, but after putting some effort into it, the door creaked and moved. She was finally about to take that first step inside the old house. Inside there was, as she expected, dust everywhere, but it didn’t look terrible. There wasn’t any kind of dirt or animal there, no webs she could see, nor dirt from some outsiders breaking in. that may have been because nobody had actually the courage to stole something from her grandparents. They had few things, which included this house, but they would always try to help their neighbours or those who seemed to need it. sometimes they would just get scammed, but they didn’t care. Every time she talked with them about it, they would always smile and say something along the lines of: “they must be happy to have received some money. At least there is another happy person”. It always stunned her, how selfless and kind they could be. That protected the house better than any kind of alarm.

Just as she was closing the door behind her, she noticed something tapped to it, right under the handle. it was an envelope of a letter. It had a beautiful handwriting on it that she recognized as her grandma’s. it was her name in a beautiful blue.

She took the envelope and tried to turn on the light, only for the switch to click without any apparent change. The electricity was probably cut, due to the long process of her getting the house and sorting everything else out. 

It was still early, so all she needed to do was go to another room, one with a big window, and read it there. The room was just after the entrance. It had a big window on one side, making it perfect. All she needed to do was move the curtain and the entire room would be flooded with light, making sure she could have sat down on the couch and read that letter.

She still remembered that curtain. She broke the one that was there before, but deep down she knew that her parents were the only one that actually liked them. it wasn’t that ugly, but it just wasn’t the style of her grandparents. It was made from an incredibly dark material, so much so that it seemed to suck the light from the room it was in.

She tore it apart while playing because, despite never seeing it fully opened to obscure the room, she was feeling crushed by it and she didn’t like it. it was during one of her dad’s visits. Every one told her “not to do those things again” or that “it wasn’t mature of her” or similar things, but she didn’t remember 100% what the right words were. What she does remember was that, just before she and her father went back one, she felt something inside her pocket, almost like a hand. She turned around, but both her grandparents were laughing between them, almost as if they had just seen something very funny, and were looking at her. She was very confused until later, when she found out she had some candies in her pocket.

After she destroyed that first curtain, grandma made one herself. This one was a light red, with some decorations of flower and mountains. It was very simple and yet you could see the skills and the time she embroidered into it. even then, as she held it, she could still feel her grandma touch and art in it, despite passing decades from the last time she touched it.

She pulled the curtain only to be hit by a ray of sunlight that she wasn’t prepared for and that made her blink a couple of times. The sun was still high up in the sky and it still made enough light for her to read that letter.

She sat on the couch and, as she opened the envelope, she felt a rush of excitement, of wonder. “why did she left this note here? Why not just give it to me directly? Or mentioning it in the testament?”

Inside was a rectangular sheet of paper, with small letters all beautifully linked to each other. It was written in that same blue that was on the outside and it said this:

“dear Mary,

I hope this isn’t a surprise for you, but your grandma likes to play games. I thought of one last game to say you goodbye. Under here “there was an arrow pointing down, towards a map of the house with small numbers written on some room” you’ll find the rooms of the home with a number. Please enter each one in the right number, it is important for the game.

Of course, no good game is without rewards. At the end you’ll find the dearest thing you gave to me and the most precious thing I could have ever given you.

Remember to have fun.

 your dear grandmother.”

At first, she was taken aback by this, but the moment after she just chuckle. She knew she had to expect this from her grandma. More so, she would bet everything that both of her grandparents decided to pull this trick on them months before, at least.

“If grandma wanted this, why not play?” was what she thought before looking back at the map.

The first place was the kitchen, so she went there, wondering what she would find.

the kitchen had a big glass door, but outside was closed so she couldn’t see anything. She went towards the door, trying to open it. after giving it a couple of shakes it finally opened, making a “cgnek” as it did.

Finally, there was enough light inside to see. She saw something on the table that almost made her jump. On it, there was a doll. It looked rather old, some of it was quite torn, but it looked sturdy enough to touch it. as she took some steps to try and look better at it, she recognized it: it was hers. During one of her first stay, her grandma gave it to her. Just how many times did she had fun with it? how much time they spent together? Too much to remember all.

A tear fell from her eyes, falling on the floor. She wasn’t one to cry at everything, but there were so many memories with that doll that she was overwhelmed.

Just under its leg was a small note: “do you remember me? You left me here when you went to study in the city. I missed you so much, but luckily your grandparents took good care of me. I’m not as young as I used to be, but neither are you. Do you think we could still work?”. It was the same blue of the letter. They took care of her for so much time, at least 10 years. She was overwhelmed and had to sit down for a minute or two.

After those minutes during which she was left alone to her own thoughts, she started laughing.

“sure, I think we could still work together” she said to the doll as she got up “I’ll come back later and bring you home with me, now I need to finish something”.

She looked at the map and the other place signed was a bedroom. She believed it was for when somebody went and stayed there to sleep, but she never used it. she always wanted to sleep with her grandparents and they always let her.

“what will I find there?” she wondered, looking for it.

Entering in the room, it was dark. She looked for the window here too and opened it, revealing a beautiful display of colours on the walls. It had a flowery pattern, but each and every one of them was a different colour. It was most probably done by them, not by those who built the house.

She found what she looked for on the pillow. It was a small, dark box. In the outer layer there was something written on it: “greatest pieces for violin, part 1”. She remembered it. it was a tape her grandpa would always listen to when staying with her and that would be their music for almost as much as they stayed together. Still there was another note under it: “we spent so much time together because your grandpa believed it helped you becoming more intelligent (don’t worry, he enjoyed it too). Don’t you think you should listen to me again sometime?”

“sure” she thought and she put it inside her pocket, wondering if she could find something to listen it with. As she walked outside of the room, she could almost hear that music that, for so long, kept her company while playing. She couldn’t believe they kept everything.

The next room was upstairs, on their bedroom. This time she was really excited and she couldn’t wait to see what they left her, so much so that she ran instead of walking up the stairs. It was just on the right of the stairs, where she could see a closed door. She couldn’t see much, so she relayed on touch to find the door, but she managed to find it. after opening it, she went without a doubt towards the windows, still remembering where they were despite all those years never seeing the house.

As she opened them, light flooded into the room. Everything still seemed in perfect order, almost as if it was tided the morning, but something strange was on the bed. There was a bulge right in the middle.

She moved towards the bed and, maybe with too much strength, she pulled back the sheets. Under there was what seemed like a rectangular, red box. Looking at it with more attention, however, she understood what it was. It was an album.

She opened the first page and what she saw struck her. Right on the first page was a note: “to my beloved granddaughter. I hope this can help you remember when your memory doesn’t work as good as it did”. It was an album of photos. There were so many photos that one could look for an entire day and still have more to see.

There was that one time she fell from her bike when she was six and she cried with her heart out. There was that one time when she was the princess during a performance with her school. There was one where she got her degree and one the day before she started working. After there weren’t so many, there were few that were showed by her dad or her mom. She started crying as she turned page after page. Why did she leave them? Was it really worth it? they must have been very sad with every day she was away. They didn’t spend that much time together and it was all her fault. As her tears fell down onto the pages on her lap, she kept turning them, reaching the end. There were few pages empty and, right on the last page, something else written: “these last few pages are for you and for whoever you choose to fill them with. Remember that caring for someone means that you share their happiness. We were happy that you found purpose in your life and we were happy you were part of ours. I also want to say this: memories are powerful, so make sure you make some good memories because those are what will keep you company when you are alone”

She started crying more, not because that message made her sadder, but because she was happy. She understood something. 

She understood that her grandparents were happy. It wasn’t that they weren’t making more memories together, but it was that they did make memories before and that was all that mattered.