Wednesday, October 5, 2011

The Empty House of Love

I entered the old house and had a feeling like i went to my own past, it felt like those years were back again.
 Everything was the same, the similarities between the past and the present were even scary. I went up the stairs, the same stairs that i used to went up and down every day. The same walls, that were hiding so many memories and secrets inside. Everything was there, except us. I could almost here ourselves talk, sitting around the table, that now was covered with nothing else but the shadows we've left. I looked out from the window, the view was the same, but the ones who used to admire that view were missing. I knew that i had a piece of myself in each part of this house, but still i felt so strange. This old house has got used to the silence during these last years, something that was very unusual here. There was nobody to laugh, nobody to fight and cry, nobody to sing softly in the evenings. The house itself seemed so lonely and sad. It seemed like he was missing us, like he has been waiting for us for so many years and now the house was happy to see me again, but was disappointed to realize that i was alone. I went back to our house without you. The memories that were kept inside those walls were driving me crazy. I got lost in time and couldn't understand were exactly i was, at what part of my life.

I could still hear you play the piano, our favourite song was spread all over the house, but the chair in front of the piano was empty. The old chair. How alive it looked standing in the corner of the room. It seemed that the chair will start talking to me in a second, telling me my own story. And i knew how much i love that chair. Being just a piece of wood, it had so much importance for me at that moment. I loved that house and i still do. The house itself was  a part of my life, one of the best parts. All those walls and furniture inside the house were hiding our secrets, our hopes and wishes, our love and care. No, the visit to my past didn't make me sad, it made me feel warm inside. I closed the door, leaving all my memories and dreams behind, being sure  that no matter what, the house was keeping our love.
The love that couldn't survive in reality was still leaving in that Empty House of Love.

                                                                                                                             © LiLit Ghazaryan

4 comments:

Norayr's World said...

I didn't know that you were blogging. The story was impressive and I wonder if the house actually exists or it just has figurative meaning. And if it really exits the pictures are charming. :)

LiLit G. said...

I would like to say that it does exist but the pictures are not of the exact same house :)

filigranowa said...

I'm forced to lock the door of my love. Future is far. But.. I hope it will be sensitivity.
Keep warm

REDFARMER said...

In my mind I live with the empty farm of my dead ancestors.
Your sense of the presence of past love in empty space lies next to my own.
I too am warmed by lives lived and loves shared in deserted places.
Gaius Vincent. Greenwich, London.
gaiusvincent@hotmail.com