the new house
May. 3rd, 2005 07:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
slowlyunfoldingAlone in the empty house, I look around, and decide that the new living room is the place to make mine. I know everyone is outside, so I know nobody can see me. It doesn't matter that nothing has been unpacked, that there is no curtains, or furniture yet in the living room.
The room is big and begs for attention after being left so long to sit. I can hear the adults talking excitedly on the front lawn, but I ignore them. They don't interest me, and never have with their odd rituals.
Standing in one corner of the room, I launch into a full pirouette, feeling the room embrace me, helping me to the other side. I land, and feel the house come together.
Until I hear my mother's footsteps on the stairs, and then she is in the room.
"What are you doing?"
It should be obvious to her what I'm doing, but unfortunately it isn't. The rituals of 11 year olds are quite easy to understand. Yet I have to explain myself to her. This will become more difficult as the years pass between us. I am as yet unaware there will come a time when I will not be able to explain anything to her, and a strange silence that is not peace will fall. The realization that she was always watching me will stun me awake when I am 33, my eyes opening in the dark.
However, I know I have to answer her, or ride her vengence for remaining silent. I haven't done anything wrong, and yet I'm unsettled. I know she has ways to turn things. I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach, and turn to face her.
"Dancing," I respond.
The air gets heavier at that moment. I feel a silence starting to creep in the bedroom windows. The house shudders, then is still.
We stand in the living room, staring at each other. I'm the only one who realizes that we are both alone in the new house.
The room is big and begs for attention after being left so long to sit. I can hear the adults talking excitedly on the front lawn, but I ignore them. They don't interest me, and never have with their odd rituals.
Standing in one corner of the room, I launch into a full pirouette, feeling the room embrace me, helping me to the other side. I land, and feel the house come together.
Until I hear my mother's footsteps on the stairs, and then she is in the room.
"What are you doing?"
It should be obvious to her what I'm doing, but unfortunately it isn't. The rituals of 11 year olds are quite easy to understand. Yet I have to explain myself to her. This will become more difficult as the years pass between us. I am as yet unaware there will come a time when I will not be able to explain anything to her, and a strange silence that is not peace will fall. The realization that she was always watching me will stun me awake when I am 33, my eyes opening in the dark.
However, I know I have to answer her, or ride her vengence for remaining silent. I haven't done anything wrong, and yet I'm unsettled. I know she has ways to turn things. I try to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach, and turn to face her.
"Dancing," I respond.
The air gets heavier at that moment. I feel a silence starting to creep in the bedroom windows. The house shudders, then is still.
We stand in the living room, staring at each other. I'm the only one who realizes that we are both alone in the new house.