TALES FROM HOME - Chapter Seventeen
The three sisters closed their eyes and fell asleep almost as soon as their heads touched their pillows.
They fell asleep to the memories of the day’s adventures.
They fell asleep thinking of all the joyful times they had shared in the happy little house.
They fell asleep to the comfort and safety of being together in a place that was home.
The sadness the little house had felt from being empty for so long had been almost, but not quite, forgotten. Once you have suffered great loss, there is always a small amount of sorrow left inside you. Once you have been lonely and afraid, some of your loneliness and fear always remains, no matter how wonderful the present is.
But perhaps, once you have experienced loss and loneliness and fear, that suffering makes you able to seek out joy wherever you can find it. The dark times become a gift when they open your eyes to what is truly important. And if you watch very carefully, the worry train always offers a different track leading to another journey filled with hopeful possibilities.
As the girls slept, the happy little house pondered these truths.
And, although the happy little house remembered the stormy times when the sky had been filled with menacing clouds and thunder, and recalled the times forest fires had threatened with destruction, it chose, at that very moment, to remember other things instead.
Once upon a time the little house’s front door had been painted a cheerful, bright red and opened into a hallway cluttered with shoes and bookbags. Now, although the front door was faded red, the dead leaves and dirt had been swept away. The treasures of small children cluttered the space in happy disarray.
Once upon a time the little house’s clean and sparkling windows had become cracked and so covered with grime, sunlight could hardly find its way inside. Now, although the windows were still cracked, they had been cleaned and shined to let light flood throughout the swept and cared for little house.
Once upon a time the sad little house was filled with chaos and clatter and the chatter of children and the steady, calm voices of a mother and a father. Now, although the kitchen was free of the chipmunks constant scolding, and the squirrels and tiny, brown field mice had decided to live away from little feet running everywhere, the calm voices of a mother and a father had been replaced by the happy little house’s own steady reassurance.
And while the happy little house sifted and sorted through its thoughts and memories, the three little girls slept on.
To be continued on Tuesday, August 17th.
(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
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