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Book online «HOME by Yominmac (comprehension books .txt) 📖». Author Yominmac



The meal in the Playhouse.


Houses are big blocks of stone or wood stacked upon another with no feeling of comfort or safety. There is always a certain level of precaution when a person is new to a house, or sleeping over at someone else's, or at a hotel, or visiting friends far away. You feel the feeling of a Home, but you know that that feeling does not belong to you, which makes our Home so much better. Those who complain of their Home are selfish. Home is Home, no matter where you are there is always a special place in your heart for Home, wherever you might be, when you return Home, there is a comfort, and satisfaction, perhaps it’s unconscious like many of us who take our Homes for granted. But for some it is a good feeling to be Home even after a day of school. A Home is not only stacked bricks, but of walls that give you safety from any exterior predator. Homes are filled with furniture and belongings that make you feel comfortable and safe. Most Homes do not have gardens or yards, but those that do are very blessed indeed for it is the land outside of the fort that you also feel safe in and comfortable with. I am one of these children that returned Home to family and comfort.
Many children tell of their wild adventures of how they escaped their neighbors from being caught stealing something, or throwing a rock at somebody passing by and making it back safely. But the ones that are the most adventurous are those who, to their peers are only waving a stick or punching the air, battle foes and deliver death to beastly dragons, or have adventures where they’ve rescued someone or something, or have been on great treasure hunts, all within the borders of Home. But is Home always safe? Has it always been a place of joy and family fellowship? There are times that a Home can become dark, especially after nightfall. After a mother or a father tucks their young ones in, there is no telling what monster might spring upon you from under the bed. They are terrible beasts that vary for every child. Those who are too skeptical and grown-up I must say hold this one advantage. Monsters are terrible to a child. They are things that creep up from under the bed and try to snatch you in your sleep. They are the ones that watch you with their glowing eyes all night from that small crack that you’ve dreaded so long. They only prey on vulnerable children, children who are still childish. Childish is the best thing that you will ever be your entire life. Childish is one thing you will not have for almost three thirds of your life. It is the most sacred of them all, and this item is called the Child’s hood. It is the hood of playfulness, the hood of joy, the hood that makes you believe in impossible things to others’ minds, it is the thing that will slip away with the mysteries of the curious land that lay beyond the border of Child.
Our tale is of two who took delight in the Child-Hood and feeling of Home. Jessica and Zach were walking up the narrow street where they lived. Their back-backs were laden with books and pencils and other supplies, but this did not stop their joy. School had let out and Summer was about to begin. They ran up there street screaming with joy and then stopped at the gate. There they rang the bell and their mother buzzed the gate. They opened the gate and entered shutting it behind them. Summer had begun. An unconscious feeling overcame them. They were Home. They immediately got chocolate cookies and chocolate milk and went into the backyard where they swung on the swing-set playing a silly game where they’d say hello in a different way every time they passed each other. It was one of their favorite games on the swing-set. Or was it a swing-set? Yes in the world they were in at the moment it was a swing-set, but it was not always. After finishing their snack they got off the swing and went into the playhouse. Now the playhouse was small but cozy for the two young children. They had cleaned it out a few weeks back and now they were sitting in it on two stools over a table with plastic muffins and plastic eggs that Jessi had gotten out of the small black plastic drawers that sat in the corner under the window. They were dining on their plastic plates with their dirt covered knives and forks bringing the food close to their mouth. Oh but suddenly Jessi took a bite and swallowed. Zach only looked up and grinned. They looked around and the windows had beautiful curtains hanging instead of the small fabric that Jessi had cut. There was a fire in the back and the plastic drawers were now cupboards full of delicious food and ingredients that had yet to be made. The cups were of glass and the drinks were sweet. It was now Zach’s turn to take a bite of his toast that was accompanied by melted butter. They looked at the candle sitting in the center of the table that was once a cardboard box. The tablecloth was of rich silk and the candles were beautiful and smelled lovely. The pile of plastic bats in the back and the wooden sword now lay in the corner as metal weapons that were very sharp. Jessica had all of her grass and mud and rock powder jumbles neatly in a cupboard in glass containers, for they were good medicine for any sickness the children had. The two children dined together in their beautiful clothes and hats they wore. The fire kept them warm and the side of the crate that had been used as a door was now a soft door that was hinged on the side. The broom was still the same old broom, and the carpet was also the same, only a tad bit nicer. They ate and ate for everything was delicious, they ate as much as they wanted for they were never full and the amount did not affect them. After they were done it was almost dark and they lay lounged in front of the fire resting their heads on two pillows talking to each other. A shadow passed in front of the window and there was an odd knock at the door. Zach got up and went to the door.

Imprint

Text: Yominmac999
Editing: Yominmac
Translation: No translator
Publication Date: 02-29-2012

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
to someone dear to me.

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