Empty chairs and full floorboards

 I sat on the red couch (it has been in my family since I was born) with you (after dessert- cake of course) and there wasn't any need to talk- talking would disrupt the observations we were making about the warm, yellow room with crowded laughter and conversations. We made them separately and I thought to share one with you, but I don't know if I did. It was a party- a big, warm family one, and I was glad your family was invited and I'm glad you came. Parties were held here when I was younger- six?- like the one last night, and this party brought those memories back. I forgot how much fun they were and how much I enjoyed them. I really enjoyed this one. It filled the house with warm lights, crowded floors, a full kitchen, and comfortable voices from family members that reconnected and met each other again in the celebration of what happened fifty years ago. I liked showing you my room and I wondered what made people stop bringing someone into their bedroom filled with their favorite things and pointing things out, saying "I made that" or "I like this" as everyone did when they kids. While we were on the couch and the murmur of voices fell over our ears, that's what I was thinking of. And you were right: the chair was once full but now it's empty as people get up and leave, happy and full from celebrating.