Nothing has changed much, albeit things have been arranged differently to my last memory of this place. Everything was neat and orderly, something I’d expect from a house devoid of children. A collection of random objects and mementos that used to sit on the shelves have been replaced by a few lonely framed photos of my siblings and I. The walls were the same – pristine white, just how my mother always liked it. They seem to glow invitingly in the light of the evening sun.
I left my baggage next to the dinner table and was reminded how I always did the same, back in those days, with my school bag. I headed for the window in the living room, looked out and saw how much the fruit trees have grown. I didn’t have the luxury of savoring the view as I mustered the composure I needed to explain the situation I was in.
“Why don’t you go and change the sheets. I haven’t changed them for some time now.”