If These Walls Could Talk....

If these walls could talk, what would they say? Would they long for the days they were fresh and new? Would they remember every nail hole that was placed and then patched? Would they regret the years with toddlers running sticky fingers over them? How would they feel about the burgundy years? Or the slate gray? Maybe the moss green was their favorite.

What would they tell you about the furniture that came and went under their watchful eyes? Would they laugh at your choice for the leather sofa that the cats quickly turned in to suede? Would they wonder what you were thinking when you bought the white rug when you still had kids in the house?

If these walls could talk would they tell you their secrets? The things only they know? The party your son threw when you were out of town visiting his grandmother in the hospital? The time your daughter cried over the phone begging her boyfriend to stay, that she would do what he wanted, if he just stayed? And then she did. And he didn't. And she cried even more. And her brother threw her a party to get over the jerk?

Would they tell you about the time your husband paced the floor mumbling to himself about the one night stand he had? The one he instantly regretted, but what is done is done? He was drunk that night. Full of secret confessions for these walls to keep.

And would they tell your secrets to everyone else? The time you ate an entire pan of brownies to try to make the voices in your head be quiet. The ones telling you that you were a failure as a mother and a wife? That your kids wouldn't talk to you and your husband was probably having an affair and you were worthless. So you ate them. And then purged them. Even though you swore you would never do that again.

Would the walls tell your worst secret? How you read a magazine while on the phone with your mother in what would end up being the last time you spoke? You couldn't be bothered to listen to her complaints about her noisy neighbors so you caught upon your favorite television star's fitness routine. Would they tell?

If these walls could talk what would they say? Would they reminisce about the days you all sat together at the table playing games? Laughing and eating popcorn. Making up puns about the world around you? Would they remember the Christmas Eve negotiations? How many gifts can we open tonight? What time can we get up tomorrow? Would they remember the laughter and the joy of seeing exactly what they wanted but hadn't really believed they would get?

If these walls could talk would they remember each notch in the door frame? Every year marked and dated? The sticky toddler fingers giving way to drunk high school parties? Would they remember all of the in-betweens? The years of listening to music practice. The dying cat sounds of a new saxophone player giving way to the gentle strumming of a guitar? Hot wheels and Barbies becoming video games and Snap Chatting? Would they remember the hours of Harry Potter being read out loud, by you, then your kids?

Would they talk about family movie nights? Would they love when it was your turn to pick? Or would they long for the 43rd viewing of The Princess Bride to be over and burned? Would they remember the time the family settled in for the Halloween Horror Extravaganza and ended up switching to the Comedy Festival Extravaganza halfway through the first Friday the 13th?

If these walls could talk would they remember the good times or the bad? Would they remember the special occasions or the day to day? Would they be sad to watch you pack or long for you to be on your way?

If these walls could talk would they welcome the new family or would they remain sullen and lonely missing yours? Would they cry as they patched the door frame covering the growth chart? Would they wish for one more day with you all watching movies, playing games, confessing your secrets? Or would they tell your secrets as amusing stories, "Don't paint me burgundy!"

Secret keepers. Home supporters. Watchful eyes. If these walls could talk would we listen to their memories? See their colors? Feel their stories?

If these walls could talk would we ever leave?