The Happy Family and the House In the Middle of the Street

“pathway towards brown wooden house during daytime” by Roberto Nickson (@g) on Unsplash

The house in the middle of the street was the home of the happy family. Every neighbor saw them as the perfect ensemble. When you looked from the outside the vivid yellow walls, the shiny green grass, the happy dog, the smile on their faces made you feel jealous. They were something to aspire to.

The father was an upstanding man. He worked hard and was nice to everybody. Genuinely seeming to just love having people around, he talked to everybody and made them feel special like they were celebrities in his eyes.

The mother loved her children more than anything. So loving and caring, she always talked about her babies as if they were still babies and not teenagers, nearly adults. She always made sure to mention that she not only loved them but that she never forgot to care for them.

The son was happy always taking care of the grass. He never let it grow too much. It was like a symbol of their unity and happiness. He was like an artist trying to complete his masterpiece with the grass. His eyes always seemed distant as if he was imagining, dreaming with something while the sharp blades trimmed the green, fresh leaves.

The daughter wasn’t always seen but from time to time she showed up with her perfect smile that resembled plastic. She made you remember a sitcom character that doesn’t seem to exist beyond those 5 minutes on stage. Something about her made you feel like you were looking your own sorrows in the mirror.

When the gates of the house in the middle of the street were closed, the happy family didn’t seem so happy. The father never actually worked. All the times he apparently went to work, he was actually drinking till his legs failed and the anger and the pain in his heart poured out. He was nice to strangers but cruel to his family.

The mother was supposed to love her children more than anything but she couldn’t even love herself. She put her man above everyone, including her children. When she was done being slapped by all his words and absorbing all his anger, she did her best to throw it away on her children.

The son that loved cutting the shiny green grass didn’t love it so much. Under the sharp sound of the machine, the burning that the thick pants inflicted on his legs, and the itching of the grass that penetrated his skin, he swore every time that that one would be the last one.

The daughter that wasn’t almost seen hid in the darkness of her room. The absence of light masqueraded the abyss that were her thoughts. Day and night, she hid in the dark room. Running away from her fears. Hiding away from herself.

The happy family wasn’t so happy. They were miserable in fact. The cruel father infected everyone with his pain. The unloving mother did nothing to protect her children. The siblings looked everywhere but no one would ever come to save them.

Nobody knows what happened to the happy family for one day, they simply weren’t there anymore. Maybe they made it. Maybe they survived. Maybe they…

All we know is that the house in the middle of the street is still there, inviting you to come closer with no one to call it theirs.