I used to live here

I Used to Live Here

It was a thanksgiving dinner that began like many others this family had experienced in years gone by. Grandpa was gruff but smiled when his grandchildren did not notice that he was looking at them. Grandma took prime responsibility for preparing the turkey that according to pre-arrangement one of their two sons bought and brought there a week before thanksgiving. Both sons lived in the city, but each one really enjoyed going back out to the country on his own, bringing the turkey, to visit with his parents and reacquaint himself with the home that he grew up in.

 And the half-dozen 9 to 14 year old cousins got noisily reacquainted once both families arrived. The male cousins tested each other’s strength in a number of crazy ways, and the female cousins shared stories of boys they were interested in, and ones that they found dreadful. Although all of them had their cell phones with them, the only use the ubiquitous devices were given was to show pictures to illustrate stories that they told each other.

The old farmhouse was warm and cozy, with the fireplace blazing with wood that the sons had chopped while they gossiped as men do without using that word or thinking of that concept. According to family tradition, there were no Christmas decorations up yet. That would begin on the day after Christmas. 

Then it was dinner time. Before eating the large meal before them, they all participated in the long-established ritual of the Thanksgiving dinner. Grandma would say a prayer, the same one every year, and then each person in turn would say what he or she was thankful for. The kids sometimes came up with joke answers, like when Gerald, the youngest boy said that he was thankful that he wasn’t sitting beside his sister Georgia, as she often had stole his food in the past. This year all speeches given were all serious and heart-felt. When Gerald had spoke about his thankfulness that his grandparents were living, unlike those of friends of his, his sister Georgia, sitting across from him as was the new custom, pointed to the window at the front, her mouth open but without her saying any words.

When they all looked where she was pointing they saw an old man’s face appearing at the window, his clothes so faded that they barely had any color. His hat had no color at all. When Fred, the older of the two sons whose families were there stood up he said.

 “We just said what we are thankful for. This old man looks homeless, and maybe starving. I think he would be very thankful if we shared this wonderful meal with him. So saying, he got up from the table, walked to the front door, opened it and invited the old man in.

When the old man came in, he looked to the assembled family to have a face that seemed familiar, like an actor in an old movie that played character roles, but whose name you never learned. Then he spoke:

“Thank you so much for letting me come in. It’s been such a terribly long time since I last saw a family gathered around a table sharing a Thanksgiving dinner. It does my soul good to see you folks now. It brings back such great memories.”

He then sat down on the couch, making himself comfortable. He took off his old battered hat, and set it beside him. Then he smiled.

“Why don’t you sit down at the table and share our food with us?”

After grandpa said these words he got up from the table and brought another chair with him, and placed it right beside his chair. Grandma got up and fetched a plate, knife, spoon and fork. “You can sit down right here now. There’s plenty for everyone,” she said.

“That’s okay. I neither want nor need to eat right now. I just want to share in your family joy. It has been such a long, long time.”

There was silence after that. No one knew quite what to say.

Then Gerald spoke up. He had no fear of embarrassment.

“You look familiar to me. Do you live in town? I really feel that I have seen you before.” Other heads nodded when he said those words. The other family members had the same impression

“You know the old shed out back?” The old man addressed and looked directly at Gerald.

“Yes. It used to be our favorite place to hide when we played hide and go seek.”

“Are there still pictures hanging from the back wall?”

Gerald could hardly hide the look of recognition and remembrance that he felt at that moment. He breathed deeply and said, “Yes….You’re the old man in the picture. You look exactly like that picture. Exactly. No wonder that you look familiar.”

“Of course I do.”

Looks passed along and across the table as others realized that was why they had felt that they had seen him before.

“Why is your picture there?” asked Gerald

“Well, you see, I used to live here. This used to be the home where with my wife, my children and my grandchildren all together at Thanksgiving.”

Grandpa stood up as he often did when he had something serious to say. Then he spoke. “I don’t know how that could be. My wife Bertha and I have lived here for almost fifty years. We moved in as a newly married couple in 1969. No one had lived here for years and years before us. The place was almost a wreck when we first settled here. That’s why we had to put a lot of work into fixing it up – so it would be livable. You would be over 100 now if you had lived here before us. You can’t be the man in the picture. You just can’t be him. You can’t be.

All eyes looked over at the old man. Every one of them felt that somehow they had been fooled by him. Then they all looked over at him, to get an answer.

“When I said I used to live here, what I mean is that when I still was alive, I used to live here.” Then he slowly vanished, hat and all.