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Friday, August 10, 2007

Summer Memories



This is a print I found many years ago at an old flea market, I have it in my hall. It looks exactly like an old house I used to go to when I was a teenager. It was abandoned, and the old man who had lived there had died, and no one in his family ever sold it.
We only lived a couple of miles from this house , and you could see it from across the field from my home. It was a place I loved to go to. I could go sit in the hayloft and read a book for hours and no one would bother me. It's funny how fearless I was at that age. I once chased a peeping tom down the alley that I caught looking in our window. Now, it seems there is so much to fear.
The inside of the house was strangely left as if the old man were still alive. His dishes were in the walk- in -pantry. His suits hung in his closet as if waiting for him to come home and wear them. The kitchen sink had one of those wonderful old hand pumps. The sink overlooked the west end of the field, and I imagined the old man's wife doing dishes and watching the sun set.
I walked up the stairs to the second floor one day and was hit by a wave of nostalgia so strong, for those that had lived there, that I had to sit on the steps to recover . I walked through their old bedrooms, each one, and oddly enough, their beds were all still there. I really never thought about me being a trespassor. I never took anything, only the comfort that it brought my soul by being there.
I took one boyfriend there, he was someone I cared for deeply. Usually I went alone. I remember he and I looking at the fields of corn that surrounded the house. That year we had so much rain that the corn seemed 10 feet tall , and it was so green. As we turned to leave, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me so soft and intensely that I have never forgot it. It lingers in my mind and comes to visit me on hot August nights. I miss being kissed like that. It seems when you are married for so long most men tire of kissing, but that kiss.... I will remember. And that house I will always treasure. *Nita*

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

"I really enjoyed your lovely story Nita...Wow, almost thought to myself, is this a real story or is she reading another story. You write so beautiful, I pictured it all in my head as I read it. Also, I do agree with you, I will never get sick of kissing my husband, but even after seven years its still wonderful as the first. Would like it if he would kiss more just like you said in your story!!

Hugs,
Jeannene

~Red Tin Heart~ said...

Thanks Jeannene, I really wrote this about me as a teenager. It is one of my most treasured memories. I am working on a book of inspiration, and on a romance novel that I want to get published by next year. Nita

The Feathered Nest said...

Nita how wonderfully written! Sounds like such a neat place yet so moving too. I know that kiss you are talking about. The kind when you are young and lips are sweet ~ all we women need is just a little romance, you know? We can live off of the tiniest fragment...
xxoo, Dawn

eb said...

a beautiful and poignant story/memory/feeling - YES!

xox - eb.

Donna Boucher said...

Wht a lovely story.
I especially liked the kissing scene.

Be still my heart.

I think you would like the book
Gone Away Lake by Eliz. Enright

Amy said...

You need a prize for your writing for sure!!!!!!!! It seemed as though I was inside the house with you, peering into the upstairs rooms.
Amy

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I love beauty, whether it is in nature, literature or art. And I love music... My day feels incomplete if I haven't had a chance to listen to some good music.. I also love beautiful souls, and kind hearts.

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