24 hours a day.
365 days a year.
40 years.
A total of 40 years and 26 days, I’ve sat in the midst of tall trees that stood hovering over me.
I wasn’t always alone. There used to be a family with me. In fact, they were the ones who built me. He placed and structured every single wood plank, stone, and beam. He had dark brown hair, with sparkling green eyes that gleamed in the sun, and the most welcoming smile that could light up the entire room. He had two little versions of him, two little girls. They had blonde hair but the exact same green eyes as him. The three of them started a life together in the vast wild.
I never quite understood why the family came here, but they seemed happy. I could tell he treated the girls with love. Every evening, they would sit in the living room with the fire going and talk about their day. The fire lit up the room with a mellow light, as the three of them roasted marshmallows and laughter filled the room. Just watching them warms my heart.
One afternoon, it was blazing hot, for summer had arrived. He was chopping wood outside and the little girls were inside playing with dolls. I didn’t even know how or when it happened. But all it was, was a spark. It flickered, and landed on my very own wood. And within seconds, I could feel the heat roasting my body.
The girls screamed, not knowing what to do, panicking and calling for him. In that moment, there was nothing more I wanted but to move.
Yet, all I could do was watch him struggling, running into the house and trying to save his girls. That evening, for the first time ever, it was quiet, except for the crackling of the flames that roared louder and louder every second. I prayed, for rain, for anything, to save the lives of the ones that brought life into me.
I wasn’t really a house anymore. Half of the rooms got destroyed and burned down. Now I sit here, in the forest alone, one year going by at a time. With no voices or life around me. But, I’m still alive. There was once life in me, the warmth, the joy, the happiness. It filled my rooms with something I would’ve never experienced. That’s why I’m still alive.
Because, I’m not just a house, I’m a home.
365 days a year.
40 years.
A total of 40 years and 26 days, I’ve sat in the midst of tall trees that stood hovering over me.
I wasn’t always alone. There used to be a family with me. In fact, they were the ones who built me. He placed and structured every single wood plank, stone, and beam. He had dark brown hair, with sparkling green eyes that gleamed in the sun, and the most welcoming smile that could light up the entire room. He had two little versions of him, two little girls. They had blonde hair but the exact same green eyes as him. The three of them started a life together in the vast wild.
I never quite understood why the family came here, but they seemed happy. I could tell he treated the girls with love. Every evening, they would sit in the living room with the fire going and talk about their day. The fire lit up the room with a mellow light, as the three of them roasted marshmallows and laughter filled the room. Just watching them warms my heart.
One afternoon, it was blazing hot, for summer had arrived. He was chopping wood outside and the little girls were inside playing with dolls. I didn’t even know how or when it happened. But all it was, was a spark. It flickered, and landed on my very own wood. And within seconds, I could feel the heat roasting my body.
The girls screamed, not knowing what to do, panicking and calling for him. In that moment, there was nothing more I wanted but to move.
Yet, all I could do was watch him struggling, running into the house and trying to save his girls. That evening, for the first time ever, it was quiet, except for the crackling of the flames that roared louder and louder every second. I prayed, for rain, for anything, to save the lives of the ones that brought life into me.
I wasn’t really a house anymore. Half of the rooms got destroyed and burned down. Now I sit here, in the forest alone, one year going by at a time. With no voices or life around me. But, I’m still alive. There was once life in me, the warmth, the joy, the happiness. It filled my rooms with something I would’ve never experienced. That’s why I’m still alive.
Because, I’m not just a house, I’m a home.