Sunlight danced across the room, over the dining table and into glass cabinets, reflecting off facets of glassware inside. White tile floors bounced sunlight up to a white ceiling. Fresh, green vines hung down from pots between windows. An old ragtime piano nestled between two doors, aging further every day. Yellow keys played everything they could, now resting, waiting for someone to tune their discordant sounds. This room was beautiful in mornings, with sunrise just outside. Smells of damp earth after a dreary rain drifted in through open windows. A painting collected from long ago, from another house– another life– was attached above the piano, filling the space satisfyingly. A row of young, happy children filled the opposite wall.

Once, this dining table was used for card games, family dinners, family fights, and creating art. It was used to fix things, create things, break things. Happy things and sad things have passed over the table in its lifetime of perching in the dining room.

Once, this piano was used to practice endless hours by unwilling children, withstanding the abuse of frustration and anger. It was used to play elaborate things, simple things, and emotional things. Happy things and sad things have passed over it, too.

Once, I had used the table. Once, I had watched out those windows. Once, I had played the piano.  Once, I had lived here, in this house, and used this dining room, and enjoyed the peaceful sunlight dancing through the room.

3 Comments on “Once”

  1. Why did you only use this area once? If you lived here once, wouldn’t you have used the table more than once? Maybe looked out the window more than once?

  2. Hola! I’ve been following your blog for a long time now and finally got the courage to go ahead and give you a shout out from Kingwood Tx!

    Just wanted to mention keep up the excellent job!

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