Once you were able to see across the valley, all the way to the sea, from the attic room. The light in here made it the perfect place to write, sew and draw. Many hours were spent up here in solitude, a little place away from the hustle and bustle of family life, a place to contemplate and create.
Now it’s just a room for storing toys, empty boxes and lost memories. You only come up the wooden stairs when you’re looking for something or to discard more memories that no longer fit into your life.
The room has changed, time has changed it. Rather than replacing the coloured glass that created rainbows on the wooden floor during the afternoon, or the crystal clear view of cargo ships and ocean liners through the lower pains, they decided to brick it up.
A simple solution that changed so much.
No more works of art created, just stored and forgotten. The only words in here are those of years ago, written on curled, yellow paper and dog-eared notebooks.
You only pass through here from time to time.
Today, the first time in so long, you spent more than 5 minutes up here, turning on the light and looking at what it has become. I thought you had remembered the window, maybe you did, yet the reason for your presence was to prepare for another change.
You and the family emptied the room, retrieved long-lost possessions and memories, ready for the next part of your journey, your new home.