I spent the night talking to my father. I know, that’s impossible, he’s been dead almost four years now. It was a dream. I was waiting on the porch of a rundown house in
. A tanker truck had overturned a block away and the sky was orange. I tried the door, it was open. I went inside and sat down. I recognized some of the things in the house. It was filled with things that belonged to my father that I threw out after he died. I stayed on the couch and turned on the TV. Every channel was the same, the overturned tanker and the fire. I went to the kitchen to get some water. Colton California
I sat back down and noticed my father was sitting across from me. He said I seem to be a little off lately. He asked if I had any problems I might need help with. Before I could answer he held up his hand. He said “She’s just like us, give her time and space. Nobody brings you into their family unless you mean something to them.” He stood up and walked away. I didn’t see him leave, but he wasn’t there.
I was alone for awhile.
Old friends started showing up. Everyone told me that the flames were getting closer and that I should leave. I didn’t want to. It was comfortable in that house. I was connected with my past in the house. It was my past, but everything bad from it was gone. There were pictures of the happy times covering the walls. I wanted to stay, but I knew I couldn’t. I stayed warm and happy for as long as I could.
The flames were closer. They started climbing the back wall of the house. All the happy memories went up in flames.
The past couple months I have been busy making new ones.