243

Today my childhood burned  

Walls engulfed in flames 

Ceilings caved 

Father and mother 

Great grandfather and mother

Ghosts of my first loves 

All inside.

Discovery, creation

Pain, heartbreak 

Unspeakable joy 

Connection, Memories 

All ashes

The land remains 

And will always remember us 

We will carry it forever 

Deep within

As a blueprint 

Of the story of home

That house was as much a part of the family as we were.  It had its own life, character, memories, strength, and it supported us through everything we went through. We would not be the same without it. It was a member of the neighborhood that everyone knew. It stood for 100 years. We will grieve it’s passing and remember the life it gave. Untimely death and destruction. Yet I can walk every part of every room in my mind and in my dreams. I can feel its presence and remember the many experiences I had from the time I lived in the back apartment with my mom and dad and spent so much time with Grandpa Fred. Grandma Esther died when I was a baby but her spirit existed peacefully in the home. Sleepovers with friends. My racecar bunkbed, stuffed animals, stickers. Sneaking out and sneaking friends and boyfriends in. Drawing and spray painting my walls and getting drunk on my porch. Playing video games. Losing my virginity. Learning how to create art. Crying myself to sleep. More memories than I can write down. That house truly was my dear friend. To see a dear friend that holds so many memories on fire and in ashes is monumental and strange. I want to let go and let it be free. Create a new home somewhere else. I longed to escape there so many times anyways. But the truth is I never really left. Perhaps that was the final cord and now I can be free. I always wanted that town to burn and maybe metaphorically it did since that was the thing I cared about most there. So much could be said. I’m sad. I must grieve and move forward. I have another home now and 243 west walnut street will always live in my heart and my soul and my dreams.