The house stands abandoned and neglected, suffocating from the overgrown ivy creeping along the walls. The blistering sun's arms chip away at the decaying paint. The only attention it receives is from a colony of black ants which infest the cracks and crevices. This cracked and decaying building once was filled with love and laughter when it provided a sanctuary for its owners. It was adorned with flowering bushes and soft blades of grass gently nodding their approval to the children playing in the garden.
We spent countless summer days in our sanctuary at the shore. The house was situated near the ocean
and provided a lovely view of the beach. From the top floor, our lookout tower, my younger brother surveyed his "dream" castle that he carefully reconstructed at the beginning of every summer and I supervised and counted the boats that occasionally sailed in the distance.
Beyond its significance as a surveillance tower, the area also possessed industrial value. Everything and anything that my family could not throw out, for whatever reason, was stored up here. There were cartons of worn clothes, luggage, baby furniture, and old toys. Dust and spider webs collected everywhere, nevertheless nothing was ever moved. My mother always said that one day she would have a garage sale and get rid of all these things, but that one day never seemed to come.
With the passing of time, my parents no longer go out to their beach house. At first they rented the place but when the tenants left, they decided to shut it down. Slowly the house started to fall into disrepair. My brother and I have relocated elsewhere and we also stopped going to the house. The sand castle has since collapsed and the boats pass by without being counted, yet memories of the house are as fresh as the ivy that is trapped beneath the wooden shingles.
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