Winter Season

The Morrison House

Oscar was lounging on his couch gazing out the window at the cold landscape in front of him. A sudden pop from the fireplace brought his attention back into the room. Back to warmth and reality. When he gathered there wasn’t any danger from the fire, he returned his gaze back outside.

Laying here on the couch permitted him to do his favorite thing in the world. Across the street from his house was the Morrison House. It had been empty for a good forty years. Widow Morrison passed away when he was a small child. He didn’t know her but my how his aunt grieved over the loss of her dearest friend. There was always a wreath on his aunt’s front door until she passed away some eleven years later.

Every now and then the Morrison family came back for a visit. A day or two here and there. When he was ten, the whole clan came in for a family reunion. What great food. Food he could only remember the taste of.

The five acre field around the house was a tent city. There were a couple R.V.’s but what he remembered best was the sea of multi-colored tents. Children were running around everywhere and most importantly, playing with him. By far it was the best summer of his life.

Now, those days were gone. No one had visited the Morrison House in the last ten years. It stood empty, alone, just sitting over there. He wanted so much to see what the inside looked like but dared not. He knew when he did it would end his fantasy.

As foolish as it seemed, he loved and mourned for empty houses. Every house had a story to tell. Each one had a rich and colorful past.

He knew, from his aunt and uncle, part of the houses story. Widow Morrison’s great grandfather was German. Morrison was the first name of the man that gave him his first American job. Morrison was a nice boss as well as a great man. When he died, Widow Morrison’s great grandfather changed his last name to Morrison in honor of his boss and friend.

After the boss’s death, the new Mr. Morrison moved to Kentucky and started working for Barker Pennington. He worked out the land for the house and built a one room cabin with nothing but a dirt floor; a meek start for the still little house across from his.

Oscar wondered if the original one room frame was still under the vinyl siding?

His best friend had keys to the house. The Morrison kin had been paying him for years now to keep the place looking as lived in as possible.

Winter Season