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Rosa walked through the massive house dressed in her flowing lilac tunic and silver slippers. She loved walking barefoot on the marble floors though. She enjoyed the coolness of it. It made her calm and quiet.

She sat down on her cosy chair overlooking the garden. Autumn was ready to put on it’s best show and she loved the colours of the fall. The splendour and beauty of the season always warmed her heart which gradually transitioned into a reflective mood.

Gazing out at the lawns, all her memories of childhood came flooding back. Her siblings and her playing outdoors; tying up tyres for swinging from the trees. She remembered the lovely treehouse which their father had built for them. The chuckling and laughter echoed in her ears. All the games they played with and on each other.

Fall was a special time as it meant Halloween and every child dressed up in their favourite costume with their goody bag. Max always insisted on becoming a zombie and Emma was fascinated with werewolves. She never let mum give away her fur costume which aunty Polly had stitched for her with such care. Their eldest brother, Noah chose to become different characters. He was once an intimidating sorcerer, another time a quirky djinn. An alien at the age of seven and a glamorous Dracula at eleven.

It’s strange that how each one of them had carried something of their childhood into their adult life. Max was an I.T. guy. A complete zombie, addicted to his computer screen. Emma never answered to the werewolf inside her, always keeping it hushed. Her coffee brown eyes hid so much of her pain. Noah had become an actor. He slipped into the role of any character as if he was wearing a silk glove. His energetic smile and emerald eyes were so enigmatic.

Natasha would carve out the pumpkins with mother and decorate the front porch. Hugo, their next door neighbour was always happy to lend a hand. Now, they were happily married and her sister had become a sculptor. She wasn’t really their blood but she was family and that’s what really mattered.

Soon, all of them will be over for thanksgiving and there would be countless trips down memory lane. The teasing, the parody, the bittersweet memories. She wandered away from the house and came to that very special corner. The place she loved the best and called it “my spot”. She sat down and close to her was a tombstone which read, In loving memory of Rosa Hubbard. Born in 1980. Died 2001.

Ah, yes, dear reader. She mostly dressed up as a ghost.


4 thoughts on “Memories

    1. I’m so glad that you enjoyed it, Dawn! Writing it was a surreal experience.
      There are stories one has to work on, there are others which one revisits, some which we have to heavily edit because of word limit but this one just flowed from me.

      Liked by 1 person

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