#SOL17 28/31 I'm writing for the March Slice of Life challenge with the Two Writing Teachers community for Day Twenty-Eight of Thirty-One. Thank you, Stacey, Beth, Deb, Betsy, Lanny, Kathleen, Lisa, and Melanie.
I read all kinds of essays/columns, poems, too that are like slices, an author's musings about small things. Somewhere in my mind as I was pondering Sunday’s post about the word “slice”, I remembered a mention of "house ghosts." I don't mean those old houses and sometimes hotels that have claims to hauntings, but the definition of ghosts that haunt one’s memories.
Years ago, my husband and I were browsing a furniture store looking for a new chair for our family room. We discovered this small sofa in the bargain room, a bit larger than a chair, but the color and the price was good. Plus, it was so soft and felt very comfortable. We actually managed to fit it into the back of our jeep and took it home. I never thought it would hold so many memories. Of course, there are other ghosts hovering, the one that holds a special brown coffee cup and that one that lies beside me under a blue comforter. There are the babies that slept with a blue and white checked blanket, and the mother who stitched a star quilt in the guest bedroom. Yes, they’re all here, keeping me good company, just like the brown sofa.
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