Our House on the Hill – 11X14 Watercolor (Not for Sale)

I used to live in this house and maybe I still do. When I was a kid, the youngest of nine, it was a bit chaotic for a while, until I was the only one left at home. My Father worked all the time and my Mother kept the house. I asked my dad once, how he did it, working his life away to provide some meager existence for his family and his answer was “I worked all the time because I couldn’t stand being around all you damn kids”. Altruism at it’s its finest. Still, the halls and rooms, even with only three souls in the house were as alive as ever. Thuds from upstairs when nobody was home, missing and moving trinkets, and odd noises, like footsteps across the ceiling. There were cold spots and nightmares, and there was loneliness and depression, tempered with light and joy. The house still stands, with new occupants, in a different location, with us in tow.