It has been so long since I wrote SoCS, but Linda is always on time like clockwork. If you want to see what she has cooked up for us, pop over to her blog and join in.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “wallpaper.”Use it however you’d like. Have Fun!
Wallpaper and I go way back. It seemed like every old home where I grew up had wallpaper. Most of the houses had little or no insulation, but there were always layers of wallpaper, often applied on top of newspapers used as a defense against the cold.
My grandparents’ homes seemed to be the exception. My maternal grandmother’s home had shiplap walls – wide planks of wood and in their home, painted white. My maternal grandmother’s home had wall panels that were of a spongy-like consistency. I never knew what the material was.
My grandmother did have books of wallpaper samples, though. I loved paging through them. The scenes and textures were very ornate covered with images of lands far away, or bright colored peacocks strutting through garden gates.
When we moved to Ohio, I do not recall wallpaper being used in any of my friend’s houses. Everything was drywall and paint. When I returned home to Virginia after marrying, I was back in the old houses with layers and layers of history on the walls.
My first husband and I lived in his grandmother’s old farmhouse after my daughter was born. I have very vivid memories of lying in bed watching snow flakes blow in through the cracks where the years of newspaper and wallpaper could no longer keep the elements at bay. I will say I loved reading the dates and the bits of articles that would be revealed when the wallpaper fell away and left only the newspaper that had once been the first line of defense.
Hubby and I bought two houses with wallpapered rooms. Never again. Someone had super glued the bright red train border to the wall in one bedroom. We had to replace the drywall to remove it. It is beautiful, but not for me!
Whose stories are hidden
All along the walls
Layers and layers of
Peeling away the past
Anyone can stop and
Peer inside a life
Every moment played out, waiting for the final