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If My Home Could Talk

posted May 21, 2013, 4:01 PM by Golden Knight

By Robert Farewell

5/21/13 

Our conversation would be in front of the fireplace. We would wear our robes, and eat meatballs with plastic utensils. There would be no music, just the sound of our conversation. It would be a lot like my own home. It would say several things, some positive, others rather negative. It would probably speak in Spanish; it is an adobe home after all. Our conversation is genuine, easy. I don’t think it would give a diatribe on the latest political movement or pretend to like vinyl. I wouldn't expect it to praise H.L. Mencken.  We converse easily, agreeing that we dislike the torn-out front lawn. It would poke fun at my car. I see it grumbling about the lack of nudity. I see it speaking carefully in front of my mother, and questioning the rationale behind her Anne Coulter book. I see it being bold enough to ask my dad why he wears his sweatpants so high, something I cannot understand myself. Despite all its criticism, I would forgive its harsh demeanor. After all, what if you weren't able to speak for over 60 years?

 In light of all the disparagement there would be moments of seriousness. It would tell my mom that three weeks after Christmas is the most ideal time to sing “jingle bells”. It would thank us sarcastically for stepping all over the broken tiles on the roof. It would imitate my father’s touchdown celebration. It would compliment my sister on her growing taste in music, especially “One Direction”.  It would tell be nothing if not candid and earnest. That’s all I could ask for from a house. After the smoke has cleared from our pipes, after the meatballs have been taken away, and even after the last tear has run down my cheek, I’m confident I would have learned something. If my home could talk, I would translate. 

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