The Garage
July 17, 2002
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Homework
See: Old wood, hand tools, workbench, sawdust, and one 30lbs block of lead
Smell: Dust, mildew, sweat, tears, fear.
Hear: Power tools, sawing, creaking old wood.
Taste: Sawdust, oil, gas, mustiness.
Feel: Dust, sweat, grime.
Even when it was young, it looked terribly old. It's walls were made of old barn board, which was appropriate considering that it was a barn-like garage. There was a second floor where the original owner used to do lots of wood working. He made simple cabinets and whatnot. The garage really liked him a lot. He made it happy because he was it's father. He had lovingly put the walls up himself (with some help from his brother of course). The barn loved people, loved when they would come and work in it's interior. It loved the little children that came later. They found many little hiding niches in its walls and rooms.
As it grew older, the boards began to separate, looking like wrinkles in an older person's brow. It's old owner moved away, but not too far. A new family moved in with a small child. She used to sit on the dilapidated second floor and cry out her fears, her tears soaking into the floorboards. She was not used to being in a new place, and the garage wanted so much to be able to comfort her. Eventually she grew older and herself moved away.
Now the garage sits alone. There are many things in it, and it doesn't know what they are. Many boxes and pallets and stuff. No one visits the old garage anymore. It leans to the side now, slumping from the sadness and bleakness it feels. Once a year the garage is visited by a woman with lots of plants. It really likes the flowers, and likes the way she makes it pretty with climbing Morning Glories.
But it still misses the children. Once there were so many children, and now...now there is only the loneliness.
NOTE: This was an assignment for my CCV Creative Writing Workshop online class with Nancy Thompson.
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