*Note: I don't have good internet and I’m posting this from my phone. I couldn’t verify my words. I didn’t want to miss out!*
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Sal pushed open the root cellar door. The yard was unrecognizable. Their dilapidated swing set was gone. Only the the sheds foundation remained. But the strangest thing was the house.
He scratched his head.
“Martha come look.”
Martha peeked over the board, a low moan escaping her lips. “My god….”
“Do you see it? The house?” He pointed.
Martha shifted her gaze to the house, and her jaw dropped.
“Wha-what, whose… house is that?”
“I have no clue. Come on.” He waved to Martha as he left the safety of the cellar.
Each of them staring wide eyed at the walked to the strange house.
“But our house was white.” Martha whispered.
“Definitely not blue.” Sal replied.
“We had a one story, isn’t that right?” Martha questioned.
“Surly not two.”
“Go on, knock.” She insisted.
“But it’s….”
“It’s our land but that isn’t our house.”
“Yes dear. Ahem….” Sal straightened his shirt and cleared his throat.”
knock-knock
His eyes shifted to his wife as if asking ,really. Sal knocked again.
“Ahh, this is silly.” He pulled the door open, hollering, “Hello there. Is anyone home?”
Silence shifted as he walked into the living room. It was immaculate.
He looked at Martha who caressed the plush sofa. “I’ll check upstairs.” White painted steps and no creaking.
“Oh my god. Martha you have to see this.” Sal gaped as Martha strode up behind him.
“Who? Oh my goodness”
A little boy of three sat on the floor building with blocks.
His gaze turned to them and a smile formed. Without a word he ran up to Martha and hugged her waist.
Tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Sal, can it really be?”
Sal scooted down to the boys level., his voice shaking.
“What’s your name, son?”
The boy pulled away from Martha, his blue eyes penetrating Sal.
“John, don’t you remember me, papa.” He fell into Sals arms with a hug.
A tender warmth enveloped him. It had been fifteen years since John had died. How could he be here? Now, like this?
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