Friday, November 11, 2011

NaBloPoMo Post #9: Different House?

When was the first time that you realized that your home was not like other people’s homes? (Guest Post by Catherine Gildiner, author of After the Falls)

When I was 12 years old, my family moved from Panama City, Florida to Portland. We moved into an older, but big, nice house.  In Florida, everything was cheaper - we lived in a military area and the economy there was depressed.  The house my parents bought was double the price they had sold our 3 year old house for in Florida.  Once I started making some friends, I had them come over and I would go over to their house.

One friend lived quite a distance from us, so she would ride the bus home with me and then my mom would drive her home. One time, her mother said she would pick her up on her way home.  When she arrived, she rang the bell and I let her in.  The kitchen was right by the front entry way and I introduced her to my mother while her daughter was getting her coat.

My friend's mother looked around in the entry and the kitchen area and said to my mother, "Well, it's not bad, but I would never live in a USED home."  Even at the age of 12, I knew that this woman had just ripped on my mother, my father and everything about us.  My mother smiled and was very friendly and welcoming. Luckily, they left pretty quickly.  I never invited the daughter to my house again.

My mother still remembers that comment and the woman who made it.  Even though she never said it, I think it cut her to the bone.  I always regretted having that woman come to our house.

I don't know if this is what the prompt was looking for, but when I read the question, this was the story that came to mind.

**I have skipped some prompts that don't resonate for me right now - I may go back to them, I may not.

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