Chipped Paint

 This feels really out of season to write; but it stemmed from a roleplay I was in with my good buddy, Craie. Good grief, this was fun.

Chipped Paint 

 The flakes had long since stopped their descent. With the roads thoroughly covered, the small town would wake up to a white wonderland. Some had already woken to clear a path out and tread the roads. But rather than brave the snow, he stood inside, staring out at the dim neighborhood. He heard the gurgle of the coffee pot, signaling that he could finally partake of his morning brew. Padding into the kitchen, he poured himself a hefty mug and sipped the dark liquid.

            Remaining in the kitchen for a few moments, he continued to sip the bitter drink; observing how the backyard started to brighten as the sun rose behind the overcast. He contemplated adding cream or sugar, but decided against the idea. A snowstorm was supposed to be rolling in; glittery frozen flakes would dump sometime in the evening. It would only be a few hours before few would venture out in predicted blizzard conditions. Glancing into his mug as he was slowly nearing the bottom, he set it in the sink and ventured back to his room.

           It had been years since he lived in the podunk Mid-West town; the last time being his senior year of high school. The instant the celebration of graduation had come and gone, he left and never looked back. His only contact had really been with his parents and the calls to his sister. Finally, he had been convinced to join his family for the holidays. When he pushed open the door, his room was still littered with high school items and things he hadn’t packed up for college. Tugging open his closet, he rummaged through the clothes that still remained.

            Adding some snow pants and a sweater to his messy twin-sized bed, he dug for some boots. Finally he came up lucky with one, and then its mate. Turning to his dresser, he searched for warmer socks; his cotton ones wouldn’t hold up to the snow that blanketed the backyard. His fingers came upon the pair of wool socks he kept in the back of the drawer. Getting dressed took a few minutes as he glanced to the window. Already it was starting to get brighter, the sun steadily making it ascent.

            Fully dressed, he cautiously descended the stairs, careful to miss the creaky steps. Finding his dad’s hat, he pulled it over his ears and stepped onto the back steps. His breathe spiraled upwards with each exhale as his lungs adjusted the frigid air. Crossing the snow, he paused before his destination.

            Tentative, a hand reached out and wiped off some snow. The chipped paint was fading; over twenty years in the elements had caused it to lose its lusty color. He’d repainted it once or twice in his childhood. Leaving a handprint on the roof, he shifted and dusted off where the name above the door was disappearing. Patting it with a smile, he trudged to the back gate and slipped through.

            He wasn’t lonely on the quiet streets, even if so long ago he’d wander the streets with his pack of friends. Automatically he made his way past the old skating pond; a grin spread as he thought of his dog racing across its surface. Going the route he walked for years, he paused at his sandlot where he’d tried to whip his baseball team into champions. They didn’t win many games, but he was their optimistic manager that still had a love for his favorite childhood sport. Some blocks of walking later, and he saw the lot full of aluminum trees.

            Laughing at the thought of Christmas spirit, he shook his head and saw the looming building of the school. He could hear his best friend’s speech in the back of his mind; it’s what Christmas was all about.

            Looping back to his house, he glanced to the red dog house once more. Unable to stop smiling, he entered the warmth of his childhood home, glad to be back.