My house is a toddler now
The 4 walls I live in turned 6 last week. She says she’s more than what my eyes see. They say walls have ears, but mine’s got a mouth too.
I missed her birthday for the first time last week. Though 6 is an angry toddler when she doesn’t get to invite friends over and devour cupcakes in 3 different flavours, she seemed more calm and accepting of peace this time.
There are no new black marks, or dark circles as she calls them. The paint didn’t fall nor her skin crack. Wonder who lied that houses grow more weak with age.
There aren’t many nails on her walls, but she’s adorned the ones that remain like silk on Ambaari. Her windows open like they were but sealed shut with the gluey eye drops I used yesterday. There are cable holes through her nose and chin, and she wears them like her new piercings.
She’s gathered dust more than she’s gathered clutter. Cobwebs grow on the back of her ears like the gentle golden wax inside mine, in desperate attempts to look like an abandoned mansion. The hooks on her windows remain unattended like chipped nails that never went manicure. Her head turns more black from grey each day and she claims it is but similar to the silver hairline on my mother’s scalp. Pre-mature aging under stress she says.
She says she feels safe now though her legs grow skinnier. Safe from the 15 year old that wanted to paint her black and blue. From the 11 year old that was never content with his room and from the couple that frequently invited guests home.
“Your friends don’t feel like guests”, she whispers while I bask in my mid-afternoon sun. She says she’s now out of her identity crisis. Her walls grow creepers into the air, binding 8 arms and 8 legs, pulling them into herself, like the Venus does the fly.
“Love has sealed my pores and cemented my walls shut”, she says. Though she doesn’t stand on any rock, she claims she’s found a stronger foundation. And I listen to her wondering if she means she’s a home now or if I need another Coraline to interpret her.
A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
