The Fabric of Us

We spent the whole day just sorting out our stuff. I started by helping Dad move his things to the room he'd be staying in. He's getting old now, so his body's a bit weak.

"Dad, why don't you just pick a room upstairs?" I asked for the third time. I really wanted him to be near me. If possible, we could even share a room, but since there are so many empty rooms, he said it'd be better to use some of the others.

"Geez, how many times are you gonna ask? If you want me close, why don't you just come down here? You know my knees aren't what they used to be—are you seriously gonna make me climb all those stairs?" Dad said, clearly getting a bit tired of me pestering him.

"Okay, okay, I get it" I gave in.

I didn't push it anymore and just focused on finishing up the task. Once done with dad's room, I'll be working on mine right after. 

The room Dad picked was near the study I went in earlier—the rom at the far end of the hallway. The room looked just like the other ones—a little worn but you could still tell the beauty it once possessed. The windows were mostly shaded by tall trees, letting little sunlight to pass through in, leaving the space bathed in a soft, muted glow.

As I placed Dad's clothes carefully into an old cabinet—stacking them one by one—my fingers brushed against something on the very top shelf.

Curious, I reached up and pulled out a photo of a little girl. She looked no older than ten, with beautiful curly hair and a smile that seemed to brighten the room even through the faded image.

"They must've been quite well-off to get a photo like this back then," I whispered to myself.

I set the photo aside gently and returned to the task at hand. By the time we finished, dusk was settling in. 

Before heading upstairs to my room— to start sorting my things—I grabbed the photo again, intent on tucking it into the chest I found by my bed.

Passing through the living room on my way up, I saw uncle resting. "We're done! Not much stuff, but Dad took his sweet time moving around, HAHAHA," I joked.

He looked up and smiled warmly. "Well, you know how he is—getting old, can't move fast like he used to," he added, giving me a playful nudge.

"You two! Think I can't hear you?" Dad suddenly appeared behind us, tried swatting at my head but I dodged, laughing.

Uncle didn't stay long since it was already late, and he had a long way home. But before he left, uncle made sure everything was in order. 

Dad stayed downstairs to start cooking while I headed up to sort my own room.

Stepping inside, I couldn't helped but smile. "I finally have my own room!" I whispered, beaming.

"I wish you were here, Mom," I whispered, hoping Mom would hear it.

But I stilled; for a moment, a strange feeling crept over me—as if someone was silently watching. I looked around, but saw nothing. There was nothing inside the room but silence and furniture worn down by time.

I shivered slightly, shook off the feeling, and continued to unpack my belongings.

There was also an old cabinet in the room where I put all my belongings. I placed the few things Mom left—stored in a box—on the bottom shelf of the cabinet.

Life was tough, so we didn't even have a single photo of Mom nor of our family. The only remembrance we had of her were the clothes and a few other belongings she left behind.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. When I opened it, I was about to speak, but there was no one outside—no person or even a shadow, only the quiet stillness of the dim hallway greeted me.

A chill ran down my spine. I was certain someone had knocked. But I don't want to scare myself even more, so I pushed the thought aside and focused on finishing the task.

I left the door open so just in case someone called again, I would see them right away.

As I was almost done, my eyes landed on the old chest I found earlier. I picked it up and opened it. The photo I had seen earlier came to mind: I intent to place it inside the chest.

I reached for the photo from the top of a glass-topped table whose purpose I didn't know of—it was the first time I had seen such a thing (a vanity mirror).

I was about to place the photo into the chest when I was drawn to look at it once more. The stranger in the picture slowly began to feel familiar, as if I had known her for a very long time, like I'd known her forever.

Instead of putting the photo away, I decided to take it downstairs to ask Dad. Even if he didn't grow up in this house or had never even been here, his parents had shared many stories about our family so I think he'll know something about the little girl.

I quickly finished tidying up so I could go downstairs, and I could already hear Dad's faint calls.

I made my way downstairs. I turned left and walked through a narrow hallway—the walls were kinda faded. The floor creaked a bit under my feet, adding to the whole old-house vibe. At the end of the hallway was a small doorway that led right into the dining area.

The dining room wasn't very big, but it feels cozy and warm. There was this old wooden table in the middle, big enough for about eight people to sit around. The chairs were simple but sturdy, though you could see a few scratches from years of use—proof of lots of family meals and stories.

Off to the side, a door led to the "dirty kitchen"—basically the outdoor cooking area. It was kind of like a little open-air spot, separate from the main house.

I saw Dad cooking on an old stone stove there, with pots and pans hanging on hooks above the counter. The air smelled faintly of wood smoke mixed with spices—so warm and homely.

"Nora, help me set the table up," dad ordered as soon as he saw me approaching him.

I started setting up the table by putting the dishes on. The dishes looked old but still showed signs of careful, skilled craftsmanship. They almost looked like collectibles—too nice to actually use. It felt a bit awkward, but we only had a handful of clothes and stuff with us anyway.

Still, Dad said not to worry about that. "Everything in this house is meant to be used," he said with a grin.

Once we were all set, we sat down side by side at the table. We said a quick prayer and started eating.