Porthole

Old House New House

For "Space Blog"  What kind of house did you grow up in? Tell us about it.

I grew up in a concrete house with cold walls and warm floors. 'Twas painted red, trimmed each winter with snow that drifted through the casement window cracks. A thorny rose guarded the door that kept the neighbors away and not much grew in the wet clay. It was new. My parents wanted new. It was all I knew for 18 years of hiding in the closet during the day, listening to the radio in the kitchen at night while the others were asleep. Drapes closed, it cocooned itself in sadness. Kindness dared not enter. The world was kept at bay.

Added: Unfortunately, cold can be bad but emotionally cold is worse. My family just kept me isolated and when my mother was ill she wasn't 'there'. I also withdrew at the same time. When looking back I don't think anyone was overtly mean, abusive or neglectful. Just not there for what I needed.

"The Old Farmhouse"   [E] by deemac

Mini-review: Very nicely written, quite evocative. One of the best I've read this year. Too bad it's set for preferred authors only. Limits its audience. I give it a 4.8.

It evokes sadness without becoming sentimental as concrete images abound. "...the roof was nearly sung off anyway; And love and laughter hugged the walls" is a very strong and poetic image. I believe dandies = dandelions and makes sense as such as dandelion heads can be called clocks.

3.380