Contemporary Drama Fiction


…I looked at my house for the last time. Then I got in my car and drove off silently into the night.


I was sitting inside my living room, donned in a casual sweater and jeans, looking at the painted walls and the dusty paintings. I wanted to take one last look at them as I turned to the flyers in my hands.

The flyers that were responsible for getting my house sold. The pictures of the interior of the house and the exterior flashed before my eyes.

So much in life had changed yet the house that was reflected in these pictures looked the same as if it were built yesterday. This house was a symbol of me growing up and having lived there from when I was five till I entered college meant that this house held a special place in my heart.

As figured, I was skeptical on selling it, as it had been my childhood home. But since Father and Mother had passed away recently and I was the only child, the only thing left to do was to sell the house. I needed the money after all.

As I looked at the flyers, I heard footsteps. The sound of the steps made loud clicking sounds.

"Lisa, what are you doing here?" It was my realtor, Jessica Eastman. She had on a grey suit and high heels.

"Just taking one last look at the house before the open house."

"I was just going to say, I have an open house in a bit so you should probably get going."

"I know. But I just wanted to sit here for a bit."

"You can do that, but afterwards."

I got up reluctantly. "Good luck," I said as I walked out. I didn’t end up coming back that day.

The following week, I had no luck in prospective buyers. No one wanted to buy the house. I asked people I knew, friends, family if they knew anyone who were looking into buying a house, but no one had anyone in mind. In a sense, I was relieved of this fact. I secretly didn’t want the house to be sold soon.

But…as my fiancé Brad said, being twenty-eight now meant I had to look at things beyond material value and instead practical value. ‘Sure, you love holding on to things of the past and that’s fine, but this doesn’t mean you should keep your childhood home if it isn’t practical for you to upkeep and maintain,’ he had said. I didn’t listen to his words at the time.


I got married the very next month. This meant that I was starting a new life and new beginnings. After our honeymoon, Brad and I drove up to my childhood home for one last time. Someone had made an offer on the house, during our time at the Bahamas. 

After we got back, I was sitting in front of our TV in our apartment. It was a smaller but cozier place of residence that was just right for us. It had all the amenities we wanted. A indoor washer/dryer, a toaster oven, state of the art fridge, and a balcony.

In other words, it had everything one could want in a living space. Except living here was not the same as living in a house. A house that could hold memories and...

"How do you feel?" my husband suddenly asked.

I looked up. "About what?

“About selling your house. You don’t look too satisfied. You've been keeping a face ever since you started the selling process. You seem out of it also."

“I’m not out of it. I was just thinking. It's hard to sell a house that means so much to you. But you know what? You’re right. I didn't want to let go and still don’t want to let go of it for some reason.” I stopped watching the TV as my thoughts took me back to the house.

He sat down next to me and put his arm around me. In a comforting manner, he said, “You must be willing to let go of it. You have new buyers now who will make great use of the house."

The new buyers were a family of three- husband, wife and a child of eight years. They for sure would be able to enjoy my house with its pool and large front and back yards.

I sighed. I was hard to see reason to his words, but I knew he was right. After all, we all had to let go of something in our past, whether it possessed a sentimental value or not.

"I’m glad they made an offer on the house though. If no one had done so, I would have reconsidered even selling it in the first place."

My husband didn’t seem too happy with my words. He didn’t say anything.


My realtor called me and said that the prospective buyers now wanted to move forward with the buying process. The FOR SALE sign that was previously on my lawn now read SALE PENDING.

My house was officially sold after a week.

By the time all the paper work was signed, it was late in the evening. From Jessica’s office, I decided to drive over to the house for one last time.

When I reached, I parked across the street, got out and just stared at what used to be my childhood house for what seemed like eternity. The FOR SALE sign now read SOLD.

Memories of the past came flooding back to me as I stared at the two-story cemented house with glass windows and a lovely water fountain out front- the wonderful times I played outside, the picnics, the playdates, the bike rides, the pool parties, filled my head. Specifically, I remembered the tears from falling off my bike as I rode around the backyard, the laughter from splashing my friends in the pool, and the cries of joy over getting into the college of my choice.

I then remembered what my husband told me. That I had to move on and leave this part of my life behind. Let this other family enjoy this house as much as I had.

…I looked at my house for the last time. Then I got in my car and drove off silently into the night. 

April 09, 2021 21:38

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