If These Walls Could Talk...

I wonder the tales these walls would share if they could talk. Many people think that they "know" me but they only know the things that I share and let them know. These walls however, have seen and heard many things that few were probably ever aware of.

I think of the experiences we have had in the 5 years that we lived in this house. We were the first residents, right now they only know the story of the Albrecht's. Others will move in and have their own but for right now, they only know the tales of a Soldier, Army wife and three Army brats.

So what types of secrets would our walls share?

Would they tell of the lonely nights when the mom cried for her Soldier boy who was thousands of miles away? Or perhaps the silent sobs of three boys who wanted to be brave for that same mom? What about the arguments that were started out of the subconscious mentality that it would be easier to bid farewell when angry with each other.

I imagine these walls know about tears...so many tears that fell while living here...for ourselves, our friends and the many we never knew. They would tell of the flood of tears and breathless sobs that tore at my heart when I heard that a Soldier fell. The tears of gratitude and same as I cried that it wasn't mine yet heartbroken that it was someone else's.

Oh yes, many tears, perhaps an ocean or two.

But they could also tell of joy, laughter and happy tears. The dining room would tell about a family that talked over a homemade dinner and shared in giggles over the silliness three boys brought to the table. They might tell of burping contests and stories that would make others turn green. After all, we live in a house of such boy interests. The floor could tell of the flubber that fell, the many friends who came and shared in this fun event that we share with so many others.

The doorbell might tell about the wife who stopped breathing for a second every time it rang while her love was deployed to a foreign land. The door frame telling of being the strength as she leaned with relief to not find Soldiers on her doorstep.

The boys rooms could tell of the abuse as boys wrestled and fought and slammed doors. But also of the success that they each achieved. They would tell of frustrated boys who grumbled while being put in time out, they would tell of boys giggling while coming up with lovely games of imagination. I often leaned on the wall outside their rooms and listened as they played nicely with one another, often brought to tears as one of their common games was "We are off to Iraq".

Our poor carpets could tell the tale of beloved pets who preferred to go potty on them instead of outside. But still the love is there as these four legged created marched right into our hearts.

These walls could tell about strength and of weakness. Because there were many moments of both.

What tales would these walls share? Would they even tell?