Titanic Tendencies
It is always cold in our house. Mom always says that the heat is on but I still feel chills creep across my neck with every step I take across wooden floors that creak like an old ship, and I can feel icicles form in the tips of my fingers every time I touch our beige walls.
Sometimes in our house it feels like we're adrift, and the waves try to move us forward but we remain steady in place; surrounded by nothing more than silence and the gentle lull of the sea. Mom hates boats, maybe that's why she hates this house so much. Maybe that's why she never leaves her room anymore; Mom always says that she needs time to herself.
Dad was never good at following directions, so now we're trapped in a sinking ship with nothing more than each other to hold on to; and we barely even have that. My Father was never a good captain, but it's hard to pilot a ship when you are drowning in an ocean all your own, so I try not to be mad about it. I try not to hate boats, and I try not to hate the people in them. I try to believe that I can do this. I do a lot of 'try.'
The floor groans under my feet; the whispers of memories hushed by my steps. It is so sunny outside. But I still hear the raindrops delicately dropping themselves onto our roof, and I can feel them interlace themselves with my cheeks; rain tastes salty but I guess that makes sense if you're out to sea. Sis never liked the rain very much, she always preferred to brave the ocean and its depths on her own. For a family we have a tendency to be alone.
It is always cold in our house. My Dad has drifted out to sea, and my mom never leaves her cabin. My sister is so focused on being able to captain her own ship she doesn't even realize she never had one in the first place. They always tell me that the heater is on, but I am still shivering.
