The Old House: Letting Go

This is an empty house partly made of stone. Its walls are painted brown. No furniture remains, minus a few broken pieces. A cold unwelcoming wind sweeps through this house.

It whispers to me, “There is no home for you here. Only coldness and solitude. Nowhere to sit or lie down. Nowhere to keep warm, as the fireplace no longer burns. You must leave at once. Look down the road for the house with the smoking chimney. There you will find a hot meal, laughter, a warm fire, perhaps even a glass of wine. You will be welcomed in, with a full heart.

Unsure, I look through the window, down the dirt path and see that the house is telling the truth. Down the dirt road there is a house with a smoking chimney. But it isn’t this house, which I remember brightly colored and cozy. And oh, the peacefulness of this old sanctuary was once-upon-a-time magic.

I turn away from the window, back to the stone house and say, “I could run out and gather some wood. I could close the windows, sweep the floor. I don’t mind sleeping on the bare tile, really. I...” A colder wind blows through, interrupting my thoughts, commanding my arms to wrap around my body for warmth.

The house pauses, then says with utter gentleness, “Hurry now, child. There is nothing more for you here, but to catch a deathly cold. Once you’ve gone, you mustn't look back. This remains a lonely house, empty of dreamers. Go where the fire burns bright. Go where you are welcomed with open arms.”

Before I turn to leave, I offer a small bow to the house and with deep gratitude I say, "Thank you."