The Stuff of Love and Dreams

My freshly painted walls, brought with them the promise of a life filled, once again, with love. When my family moved away, I was left feeling empty and useless. My new family came soon enough, along with more things than anyone should ever possess. I remember the feeling as they brought in their stacks and stacks of boxes. It was as if I had eaten a giant holiday meal. I was bursting at the seams, but full of joy, the kind of joy only a family can bring. As the years passed, my contents grew. As things were no longer needed or appreciated, they were lost and forgotten high within my rafters. When that space became too full to hold anymore discarded memories, boxes gradually made their way underground and what used to be a gathering place for my family became a graveyard of forgotten dreams. A few boxes left as the children grew up and moved away, but other than that nothing ever did. There was always more and more. It was a comfort to me. I felt safe, resting in the hope that the more stuff I had inside of me, the less likely I would be abandoned once again. Eventually, though, all the family was gone except for the old lady. I liked her. She filled my rooms with bright colors and my halls with happy songs. She was all that remained of the family I loved. One gray afternoon, I noticed a large truck parked by the curb, and I knew that she was gone. A few burly men loaded up the remains of the life we had shared and left me, once again, empty and alone. Waiting for a new family to fill my walls with love and the stuff that dreams are made of.