The house I live in now I moved into in 2013 but it was built in the 1950s. Before I lived here it had been a family home. Where people had spent their times and childhoods had been played here and people had grown up here as the ticks of time passed by. Love and marriages had been here and peoples memories and sentiments.
But as I never knew them and didn’t live there with them I sometimes stop and think as time passes by and my own memories are forged as to who once lived here? How many people had taken these stairs to bed just like I am, How many memories had been made in these rooms, how many children had grown up safe and warm in these rooms? The very rooms I occupy are the same rooms people occupied before me. This was their life.
In the lounge how many Christmas presents and excitement of Christmas mornings had there been over the years? How many faces had lit up? What was their Christmas night like? Was there many happy times in these rooms? Was the kitchen once a place of nice smells of cooking?
Moving into a new home sometimes there is still things from the previous occupiers such as carpets or white goods. Kitchen cupboards etc and this was part of their life. Some day all the things I leave behind shall be witnessed and left for someone else. Will they ever wonder who I am or who I was?
People grow up and move on and so does life. But the house remains here as it was to start with. The same four walls are still here and the echoes of time still are here.
The house was sold as the woman who owned it had gone into a home and is by now sadly probably passed away. Her children had grown up here and moved away and sold the house. Their time here had come to an end. Their era was over and a new era began. But do we ever consider what has happened in them rooms we now spend our lives?
Perhaps one day someone else will be taking these very stairs to bed just like I do and the people before me. Will they ever know of the people and the memories and the life’s which unfolded in these four walls?