How many stories have crossed this doorway? The old family cottage, sandy and weathered by the sea. How many times did Ed come bounding through that door, proudly holding up his favorite catch of the day, his little bathing suit soggy from The Sound. Running in to share with Grandmothers and Grandfathers, now long gone but not really gone at all. The radio still by the favorite chair, the books still left with folded corners.
Years of inherited echoes blanket the air. Audible and palpable in the silence.