This house was in my parent´s house for as long as I can remember
I still remember the first time I went to Milton. It was a house that had certainly seen better days. Its gray walls with peeling paint, the distinctive smell of damp. The bathroom was tiny and the kitchen was a greasy hole. The room upstairs had a window the size of a dog door. The patio overlooked a hallway which walls were covered with moss. The rooftop had a dilapidated room full of garbage. As if it were yesterday, I can feel tears rolling down my face. I couldn´t believe my parents had bought that house.
My father said “don´t worry, I´ll fix it and it´ll be beautiful house”. It sounded more like wishful thinking than a plan. Secretly, I was thankful I didn´t have to live there. I had moved into my brother´s apartment.
My father fixed the house. He changed spaces. Where there was a kitchen now there was the main bathroom. Where there was a big bedroom now there was a very big kitchen, the room upstairs changed the dog door for a very big window, the dilapidated room on the rooftop became a green house, the hallways was cleaned up and the whole house was painted with bright and light colors. In less than a year it became a very beautiful house.
Life has funny ways. Lot of water under the bridge since then.
My brother´s death caused my moving into Milton for the first time. My parent´s death caused my moving into Milton for the last time. And Milton? It was growing old, little by little, witnessing our lives.
Every story comes to an end. It was time to say goodbye. And I couldn´t help but thinking that I was leaving the house in almost the exact same condition it was when I first saw it, with peeling walls, worn off colors, damp, completely damaged.
hall
window overlooking a hallway
hall
my parent´s bedroom looking at the living room
This is the room where my mother created the most amazing pieces of clothing
Main door from inside
stairs to the rooftop
lady´s
boy´s
kitchen
bathroom
patio looking at the front door
living room
I went over the rooms, one by one, they were empty, silent. The feeling was that of a set, when the shooting is over and the lights go off and the actors leave. And there is silence, stillness.
And I turned the lights off and l shut the door.
And I cried like the first time for the last time.
The Wanderer 