Echoes Grown

Prompt from Dailyprompt.com

I remember when someone lived in me.

When the family first moved in I was a place for boxes. Piles of dreams and aspirations.

Slowly the boxes were cleared away. I was papered over with bright, colourful designs.

A table. A chair. A crib. Piece by piece I was filled again, this time with a clear purpose.

But I wasn’t lived in.

Until the baby arrived. Suddenly there was life in me at all hours. I was the centre of the house.

It felt good.

Time passed and the baby grew. My skin changed with him, colourful animals becoming cartoon characters becoming movie characters becoming a simple coat of paint adorned with carefully arranged artwork.

Now he was the only one who spent much time in me, but that was enough. I was lived in. I was loved.

I knew him better than anyone else could. Better than he knew himself.

Then he left.

He came back, at holidays and for summer. But he spent most of it out of me. His heart was no longer here.

Then one day he packed up everything, and said his goodbye.

I became a place for boxes again.

Until the man started emptying me. Clearing everything away. Sorting and throwing and tidying until I had nothing at all.

I was like that for months.

Every distant sound echoed in me like a plaintive cry.

A desk! A desk! A polished and worn piece, freshly refurbished.

After that it happened quickly, just like before.

A chair. Shelves. Cupboards.

The woman wept with joy when it was finally finished.

I am still not lived in. There are weeks when I sit empty, alone with my thoughts.

But there are weeks when she spends hours here, nestled within me, and I am her fortress of creativity. I like to think her soul lives here, with me.

One day I will be lived in properly. But for now, I am enjoying being a studio.

It’s good to try new things.

[I played VERY loose with the prompt this time. Beyond still not being ready to tackle flash poetry, I mean. I was planning on ending it with the space becoming a spare room and having people only rarely in there, but it suddenly pivoted. I decided to leave it like this rather than rewrite.]