The roar of silence can be painfully deafening at times, and in Mabel Wetherby's home, the silence was as loud as ever. She stood by the windows and took a deep breath of salty air. She turned to look at her bedroom, taking it all in one last time. The closet was bare, her wardrobe packed neatly into suitcases and waiting for her by the front door. In fact, the room was mostly empty now, except for the bed. Mabel had made it this morning, making sure the duvet was smooth and perfect. It took some time, in her old age, but making the bed was a part of her every day routine. A large, ornate headboard matched the nightstands on either side, and she took pride in it. But it didn't quite feel like home anymore. This was the bedroom where she had once woke many times a night to feed crying babies. The room was once filled with the sweet sound of her lullabies as she rocked them to sleep, or the sound of the waves crashing outside on summer nights when she left the windows open. Today there was silence. 

With a sigh, she pulled the curtains together, casting a dimness over the room and blocking the gorgeous view of some seaside rocks, waves crashing into them before receding again. She turned away and wondered if she'd be able to sleep without the lull of the sea. 

She closed the door behind her and cautiously descended the steps. Her time-battered hands held on to the dark oak railing. On the sixth stair, she paused. It used to creak, back when she first bought the house. Oh, how she hated that creak! She fussed and complained about it so much until finally her husband, Charlie, decided to fix it. She remembered going to the boardwalk and buying them ice cream cones while he worked. Being so close to the boardwalk had always been her favorite part of living on the beach. Once his work was done, they’d sat side by side on that very step and enjoyed their sweet treat. The stair never creaked again after that. Now, she almost missed the sound, one of the unique quirks of the home she had built a life in. 

In the dining room, she paused to admire the table. Dark wood, elegant curvatures and a few scratches here or there, evidence that life had been lived in this home. Like people, the table wouldn't have any stories worth telling without a few scars. It was a true one-of-a-kind gift, handmade by Charlie for their tenth wedding anniversary. Their family has made so many memories around it. Children laughed, and as they got older the laughter turned into tales of school days. Each night they captured the joy of boyhood, the highs and the lows of life as a teenage girl. Eventually the conversations turned more mature. Her eldest daughter practiced for her first job interview there, and it was at this table that her son found out he'd gotten accepted into an ivy league college. 

Mabel brought a shaky hand to her thin, puckered lips and held it there for a moment, then placed that hand on the tabletop. She shook her head solemnly; parting with this piece of her home was difficult..., almost painful. 

Mabel continued her final tour of her home, making her way to the kitchen now, a place that had always been vibrant and happy. She had yellow curtains over a wide window with a view. The sunlight would filter in so brightly sometimes that it nearly blinded anyone who sleepily wandered in on those earliest of mornings. She always kept a variety of fruit in colored bowls, keeping the kitchen welcoming and fresh.

 In her younger days, she loved to cook. Every now and then, she'd whip up a romantic meal for Charlie on date night. Hot food sizzled in pans, the sweet and savory aromas drifting through the air and filling the room. Wooden spoons scraped the sides of pots and there was the whirring of blenders and mixers. It was her favorite thing to do for her family. 

Finally, she moved on from that room as well. There was no one left to cook for. She passed each of her children's bedrooms, memories flooding to the surface. Her daughter, Marcie, jumping on the bed in a hot pink tutu and singing horribly into her karaoke machine. Marcie loved to sneak feathered boas and high heels from her mother's bedroom when she thought she wasn't looking and dress up, trotting around as she pretended to be a pop star. Mabel had always thought it funny how Marcie was so secretive about it. Truth was, she didn't care about her sneaking her things away at all. She enjoyed listening to those off-key ballads and watching Marcie strut across her bedroom floor as if it were her own personal catwalk. The concerts she put on were well worth a few boas and shoes.

No concert quite measured up to her brother though. Mabel's oldest child, Jonathan, was the best percussionist in the school district for most of his middle and high school days. Mabel had endured many days and nights without sleep, listening to the incessant drumming. Sometimes he was good, sometimes he could use a little work. Mabel had always been proud of him for how hard he tried and his refusal to ever give up, and his eventual success as he joined the band at church. 

Of all the rooms in her home, leaving this one behind hurt the most. Those spaces had offered her an insight into her children's minds, even during those difficult teenage years when they tried to keep it all private. They’d decorated the walls with posters of their favorite bands, hung up trophies from cheerleading and soccer… She sighed, closing her eyes and making a silent promise to keep those memories alive in her mind, even if she couldn't peek into their rooms anymore. 

Her final stop was the living room. Like her bedroom, it was nearly empty now. Most of the furniture had been auctioned off. She didn't need it anymore. She left just the basics: a cream-colored sectional with a matching ottoman, yellow throw pillows, and a little lamp on the end table. She would miss this room the most, she decided. This was where family game night happened every Saturday night. There were shrieks and giggles, lion roars and stomping dinosaurs, games of hide and seek that could go on all day. Marcie was always the best at hiding, but somehow Mabel always knew where to find her… even if she pretended she didn't. There were romantic nights with her husband in this room, curled up beneath warm blankets with popcorn and a movie, holding hands and listening to each other's heartbeats. Jonathan's graduation party was held in this room, and Mabel's heart had swelled with pride that night. In fact, there were many milestones of life celebrated in this room. Marcie's baby shower, Charlie's promotions… Yes, Mabel thought, this is the room I'll miss the most. 

She slowly eased herself onto the chaise of the sectional, leaning back and letting her head rest on the cushion behind her. She waited for what felt like an eternity, but just as she lifted her arm to check the time on her watch, there was a knock at the door. 

"Just a minute," she called, working her way up to a standing position. But she didn't need to rush, for Marcie opened the door and stepped through, brightening up the room with her presence. 

"Mom, you should've waited. I'm here to help now," she said to her mother. Her voice was gentle, soothing. It reminded Mabel of the voice she used with Marcie when she was a kid. But Marcie wasn't a kid anymore. She'd grown into those big round eyes of hers and her posture was near perfect. Her tailored blazer and slacks made her look professional in every sense of the word. 

"I'm capable," Mabel reminded her gently, "of crossing the room on my own. I'm not that old just yet." 

Marcie's eyebrows pulled together, a frown forming on her face. She took a few steps forward, her shoes clacking on the hardwood floor, and wrapped a loving arm around her mother's shoulders. "I know how much you love this house, Mom. I'm sorry you have to leave it." 

Mabel leaned her head on Marcie's shoulder. "I'm not sorry," she assured her. "I have a lot of good memories here, but they aren't stuck within these walls. They're all right here." She tapped her temple, smiling. "I simply can't take care of a place this big by myself anymore." She shrugged her shoulders, but she was still grinning. "Besides, that's not home anymore. It's too quiet." 

Marcie laughed, picking up the bags Mabel had set down on by the door earlier this morning. "Well, good thing you're moving in with me then. It's rarely quiet in my house."

"Wouldn't be much of a home if it was," Mabel reminded her. She waited as her daughter took her suitcases to the car and returned to help her down the steps. The sound of the waves crashing down by the shore and the seagulls above greeted her as she stepped outside. 

Mabel climbed in slowly, smiling at her grandchildren in the backseat. "Grandma's going to come stay with us for a while," Marcie announced to her children. Mabel peered over her shoulder, and the faces of her granddaughters lit up as though it were Christmas morning. 

"Grandma!" Stella shouted. 

"Yay!" Sloane added, throwing her arms up in the air. "Grandma's staying with us!" she repeated to her sister, as though she hadn't heard their mother the first time.

"Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!" Stella started, and Sloane joined in. The girls erupted into a fit of shrieks and giggles, kicking their legs and bobbing their heads in excitement. 

Mabel leaned back in her seat as Marcie pulled out of her driveway, and she didn't even bother to look back as she drove away from her house for the last time. She closed her eyes and soaked it up, all the noise and the giggles. 

This is home, she thought with a smile.