All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Goodbye, Home
‘’Goodbye.’’ my house whispered to me, as I stood in the kitchen, which frankly, looked awful. The dust was everywhere, they hung a sheet to keep it out of the rest of my house, but that wouldn’t matter anymore.
‘’Code violation,’’ they said, ‘’Too dangerous to live in.’’ We were right in the middle of a kitchen renovation, too. The wires were hanging out of the wall, the wall bare without its cheerful yellow wallpaper, to brighten up my day. Empty, without the smell of my maman’s cookies, which were always there for my sister and I. The window was still there, reflecting light at an angle to strange for me to comprehend. I wish I could have been there when we started, to peel off the paper, save a little. But it would have been wrong to destroy my home, right? And now, with those city men and their silly little papers, I was about to lose everything else, too. I would have sat, on the floor, but my Maman wouldn’t have liked for me to get my nice clothes all dusty, but I wouldn’t have minded.
‘’Tomas!’’ she calls from the doorway, ‘’we have to leave, si?’’
‘’Si, Maman.’’ I reply, looking at my beloved kitchen, and then I follow her out, out of the living room, out the door, down the stairs from the front porch. Looking back one last time, at my faithful old house, I hear it tell me,
‘’Goodbye, Tomas.’’ and then in that instance, I wonder if that is what losing yourself feels like. A piece of my soul broke off in that house, and there it will stay, until death does me part.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.