Ruins

I used to be proud of our house. I remember my family moving in even though it wasn't completely finished. So we had to endure sleeping with the smell of paint, and being pestered with insects attracted to the light since the screens weren't on the windows yet. Wood, cement, and noise galore.

When it was done, our house was really beautiful. It was quite small though, but it was enough for the four of us. My dad used to be an interior designer and has some know-how on things like building houses, and I can say that he did his best with the small lot that we have.

I liked the spotlights hanging from the structura best. Imagine having those illuminations in your house when I was used to ordinary apartments and my grandma's ancient house. It was amazing. The fluorescent lights weren't exposed - they were in niches on the ceiling covered with silvery thingies and corrugated platic thingies. No chandeliers, those wouldn't fit. There were switches everywhere. I especially liked the halogen lamp over the aquarium, and the two half-disc lamps attached to the living room wall.

And the furniture! They were designed by dad himself. The modern formica dining table overhanging from a wall. The rounded cabinet. The kitchen with its stylish gray and maroon tiles and the brick thingy dividing kitchen and dining area with its arc-shaped hole where you can strike a pose.

And the bathroom which was always kept spotless by my mom. How my brother and I used to take a bath together and play with the shower and the shower curtains, and occasionally with the flush toilet.

The carpeted bedrooms and our new double-deck bed. My own cabinet and bookshelf. My own table where my cassette player, my keyboard, and my toys were. The arched doors with circular windows. The modern multi-flecked paint on the walls. The special corner for my Dad's Buddhist altar, smelling of ash and incense.

The house always looked its best on Christmas. The Christmas lights outside alternating with green wreathe-like thingies with red cherry-like balls. The lavishly decorated Christmas tree! How Mom would adorn the brick wall thingy with artificial plants and flowers and blinking lights and decors which vary every year. When alone, I used to turn off all the lights except for the fading ones on the Christmas tree and have an emo moment while listening to music.

I had my elementary and high school classmates visit my house often, and they were always charmed by it. I was proud of our house.

We were financially stable then. Dad always had these big jobs from well-known companies, and we lived happy and contented in our beautiful home. But then after a few years, his projects became fewer and less frequent, until a time came when he didn't get any jobs at all. And at the same time, my brother went mentally ill. The house changed then.

The glass on the cabinet was smashed by my brother on one of his frenzies. Some of our appliances had to be sold because we had no more money. The aircon had to go. Mom's sewing machine. One of our TV's.

The fish in the aquarium died since we couldn't afford to feed them with their special pellets and flakes anymore. I cried for some of my favorite pet fishes. We placed them on buckets and left them to their deaths (though the hammerheads and the janitor fishes endured longer).

Our cable TV was cut off. The landline had to go as well since we couldn't pay the bills anymore. My Dad and I were having big fights every night. My brother physically tormented me with his crazy behavior. My Mom wasn't at my side.

The furniture was moved to suit the movements of a poorer life. Before they were used to beautify, now they had to function as efficiently as possible. Lines for drying clothes were installed on the living room. Laundry everywhere. Parts of the wall dividing our rooms were taken down to suit my brother's demented condition until our whole second floor became one big disorganized room.

I lost my room. The double-deck was cut down into two beds since my schizo briother can't sleep on the upper deck anymore. The carpet became dusty. My radio broke down. The expensive lights were taken away since they consumed too much electricity. Soft yellow lights replaced by cheap unattractive white ones.

Then the water tank in our whole area got busted so we had to fetch water for our daily needs from the artesian well blocks away. The bathroom became dirty because of the well water, and my Mom lost the heart to clean it so often since the floor was always wet.

Now when I go home on weekends, I can't help but feel sad about the sorry state of our house. Cockroaches and mice have infested our once pest-free abode. Every time I come home, a light has been replaced, or an unnecessary door has been removed. A side chair disappears, or a furniture has been moved. We don't do Christmas decors anymore. The Christmas tree is years left dusty in its box.

When my room was still partially whole, I placed a Hogwarts poster I made on an ornamental window so that those outside can see it. I placed it there so that passersby will know that a bonafide Hogwarts student stays in that room.

But I've lost my room. The second floor already looks like a ward with four beds arranged side by side. And I don't sleep there as often.

And I can't even look up at my Hogwarts poster now since a mini sari-sari store is now placed on our front garden, and its roof blocks the view.

The last time I went home, the store was closed and empty of goods. Bankrupt. And I'm not earning enough to support my whole family - them and their medicine.

I used to go home to recharge. To soak in a sense of stability in a place where I grew up. But now when I go home, I just feel more depressed. I can't wait to go back to my new bed, new table, new everything in my new dorm.

I call my cat, Baby, and pet him, as I get lost in the memories of what my family used to have, of how much we've fallen, of the big responsibility now on my shoulders.

And now, as I'm typing this, I cry a bit, because I remember those days when I am still in good terms with Dad, my brother was still sane, and the house was still new. How everything was beautiful, in and out of the house.

Our house is in ruins, in more ways than one.

And for now, all I can do is cry and remember.