Don't play in that house, they said. It's dangerous – unsound – they said. But she could see its bones, and they were beautiful.
She could see the frame and joists because the house was a real mess with crumbling walls and holes in the ceiling and floors. The house was naked, no longer trying to cover itself with paint, crown moldings, and pretty wallpaper. She loved that about it.
Her favorite spot was in the former dining room where there was a big, gaping hole. She sat at the edge, feet dangling into the basement where she could see empty, rotting shelves and dust-coated mason jars. A grimy chandelier dangled loose and free from the ceiling.
She liked to imagine the parties that once took place there. The grand feasts; the painted and prettied people gathered around the long table. It wasn't a terribly large room, but the table had to be long to fit all the diners. The chandelier was new and sparkled, sending little rainbows into the darkest corners. The conversations – the laughter! It all filled her mind and made the corners of her mouth lift just a little.
On to coffee served in the parlor, or something stronger if so inclined. Couples cozy on the sofas, tête-a-têtes by the window. And everyone agreed, yes! Yes! It had been a marvelous evening, hadn't it. Can't wait to do it again. They all kissed, embraced, and went home happy.
Then they stopped coming. She didn't know why. Perhaps it was because the house started showing itself. It became harder to patch the wallpaper, to fill in the holes and paint over them. The floors were too expensive to reinforce. Gaps formed, so small at first that they were easy to ignore. Until they weren't. No one could ignore the gaping hole in the dining room floor, exactly where the table – the table long enough to accommodate everyone – should be.
This hole, where she swung her feet.
Loved it! Worth the effort!
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