My parents' house stood before me. The home I had never even seen before.
My feet were frozen in the sidewalk, staring at this piece of architecture that seemed so foreign. The white shutters were faded with chipped paint. The roof was uneven and likely to collapse at any moment. I didn't even want to know what the inside looked like.
You see my father got the bright idea one day to buy a fixer upper as their retirement home. A “forever home” my dad would say. Why my mother ever went along with him in the first place is a question I'll always wonder.
I was away at college when I got the call they were selling my childhood home and moving. I was excited for them but sad that I wouldn't get to see the house I grew up in one last time. I had so many memories there and had no idea why they wanted to move. The house they used to live in had plenty of bedrooms, spacious backyard, and an upgraded kitchen.
It didn't make sense to me.
I was all set to visit them at the new house during Christmas break. I had prepared like my father told me by packing plenty of clothes to get dirty. But after a long semester, I wanted to rest and relax on my break not become a construction worker. It would be a longer drive home than it used to be.
I willed myself to step off the sidewalk and make my way up the brick walkway that led to the red front door. It looked freshly painted and I imagined my mom and dad fighting over what the perfect color would be.
My hand shook as I grasped the door handle. I took in a deep breath and turned. “You can do this, Henry,” I said aloud.
The door swung open with creepy creaking noise. My eyes immediately focused on the worn-out floor that must've been at least a hundred years old. I didn't even know if it was safe to walk on it without breaking through to the basement below.
My first step inside was iffy at best. The house settled, moaning and begging me to leave. I wanted turn around and run back outside. I knew that this was going to be a bad idea.
I took a few more steps further and noticed the staircase with a white banister. Another freshly painted item courtesy of my father. But the rickety stairs were missing a few steps.
The place was silent. I had hoped to hear my mom cooking in the kitchen or my dad yelling at the football game in the living room.
But there was nothing.
I explored the house more, doing my best to avoid nails sticking out of the ground and random tools laid about. I made it through the kitchen and to the door that led to the backyard. I opened it to discover the reason my parents picked this place.
The green paradise was something out of a fairy wonderland. A field of grass led to a white gazebo covered in vines. A gigantic oak tree shadowed the entire yard with a swing hanging from one of its many thick branches.
I took off my shoes and walked through the grass barefoot. I had always liked the feel of the blades between my toes since I was little. I walked over to the tree and sat down on the wooden swing. My fingers gripped the coarse rope on both sides as I pushed off.
I tried to fight back the tears. I still hadn't cried since I heard the news.
–
I had stayed up until four in the morning cramming for a college algebra test that I had at ten in the morning. I lay down in bed, knowing that I would only be able to get a few hours of sleep. My phone rang before I could even shut my eyes.
I didn't usually answer unknown numbers but I got a weird feeling when I saw my phone screen. I answered and listened to the man on the other end.
The blood drained from my face. The phone dropped from my hands before the man was finished talking.
My parents were in a car accident.
The doctor said they tried everything in their power to save them. I didn't need him to finish before I knew the rest.
They were gone.
Gone forever.
My mind snapped back to the present. Tears streamed down my face. I fell off the swing and onto my knees. My parent's house was all mine now.
But I didn't want it.
I wanted my parents back.