Memoir Mom Dad and Old Home
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This week when we started to pack our bags and stuff to move to a new home, I finally found something which I was looking for years. It was a picture, a picture very special to me, the picture of our old house where we used to live before this one.
My parents were sitting on the front side of the house in Pakistan, where I spent the first 14 years of my life. When I took the picture, I was very small and I can easily tell that because the hairs of my parents were still black. Both of them had very beautiful hairs.
Dad was reading the newspaper. He read every bit of printed material that came into the house. He would even read my history and geography books when no teacher said he had to. And he would ask me if I could bring them home again the next night. Due to the financial condition of my grandfather my fathers formal schooling stopped after the 5th grade, but his education never stopped.
Dad has his stocking feet propped against the pillar of the porch. When he and mom would sit down in the evening to relax I remember crisscrossing the laces to release them from the hooks on dads shoes. Mom is sitting and looking towards me in the picture, maybe chewing on some kind of toothpick.
The window is closed in the photo but we could slide the panes to have it open at the top and at the bottom. We had adjustable screens we could put in an opening to help keep out the flies. We had two big kitchens and three bathrooms. My room was the best room in the house. We moved to New York 5 years ago and since then I never saw my home again until few days ago when my childhood buddy, my neighbor, sent me the pictures of my old home.
It was a beautiful house but it didnt last forever .I was saddened at the speedy way the house deteriorated. One of the pillars had fallen down. The whole house is gone now and a furniture store stands in its place. I still remember those old good days.