I light a fire in an empty house
I should not be in this situation. I feel disgraced. I have walked all day every day for the past two weeks and now I have reached an empty house. I am sitting on a cold floor and the sun is going down.
On top of the cupboard I find a box of cigarettes and some matches. The family must have forgotten them in their haste to leave. The floor is littered with family photographs and scraps of newspaper. I gather them together and light a fire. It is now dark, flickering images light up the wall.
There are more noises here, in the distance I can hear a cat wailing. The cigarettes are expensive and very strong. I light one and try to forget, to think of the old days. Savouring every breath I try to make the cigarette last for as long as possible. For a brief moment I can relax and I'm lifted to a higher place.
I was a soldier, I am now retired and my wife died nine and a half months ago. I remember a time when I had great respect, the army was my family. The fire offers a tiny bit of heat but soon it goes out. I searched the house and found some tea. The warmth it creates is amazing and it helps me to get to sleep.
The next day the house looks different. It hurts to see all the signs of a house that was lived in. There are marks everywhere that show the heights of the children as they grew up.
I am still in good shape, although dirty and hungry. What I really want is to be happy again. Life seems to have lost its spark and I don't know if I can find it again. I doss around in the house for a few days. I have a roof over my head and occasionally I find a scrap of food.
The next morning I wake up with a crash. 'Hey Mister' the voice says 'can I have my ball back?' It had been a long night and I was hardly awake. My body was stiff. A small boy was standing in the doorway.
'Where is it?' I say struggling to speak.
'It's right in front of you mister.'
Indeed it is, so I pick it up and throw it to him. As soon as he got it he ran out as fast as he could. That was the first time I have spoken in two weeks. I stumble over to the door to see where he goes.
'Nah nah na nah nah' he shouts to his friends 'you owe me five bottletops'.
'That's not fair' says his mate 'I only said three'.
'Ivan!' A girl shouts 'Mummy told you not to go into number 34 and I saw you!'
They continue, arguing and shouting to each other. I had not seen them before. I remember there was a house on my street, on the corner that we weren't allowed to go near.
I go to the bathroom and look at myself in the broken mirror. Two weeks of beard growth, a tatty old army coat, my eyes are black and baggy. This is not right, I want my life back. I walk out the door with my head high determined that my life is going to start again.
Rod White 11/07/98
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