The familiar walls of the house echoed with the weight of memories as I walked through the rooms. The scent of nostalgia hung in the air, intermingling with the bittersweet emotions that filled my heart. This house had been the backdrop of my childhood, where laughter and tears had woven the tapestry of her upbringing. Every corner held a story, and every creaking floorboard whispered a secret shared between me and my mother.
"Mom, this is our home," my voice barely rose above a whisper, reverberating as if the walls themselves could understand. In my childhood room, I lingered, my fingers grazing a weathered family photograph on the mantel. Faces frozen in time stared back at me, and I couldn't help but trace the lines etched by laughter and love. "I'm not interested in business, yet this house reminds me of my childhood. This house holds a lot of memories for both you and me."
