These walls they know my pain. This paint it shares my tears. These nail holes they understand each and every scar. This unfinished house represents me in every possible way, it comprehends each and every moment. I've grown up here. My height has been measured in sharpie on the walls. I have sat in each and every corner whether it be for punishment or losing my self in a novel. This house isn't just a place of residence it's my home.
Yesterday I got the 90 day notice. This home is no longer mine. I have to pack my books, my Nic-nacs, and my pictures. But the thing I am putting off most is packing the memories.
I always hear of the people who 50 years down the road still live in the houses thier children grew up in... I hear about getting a complete tour of that house with each and every detail maped out. From where they lost thier first tooth, to where they stood when they came home from thier High School graduation.
I will never be able to bring my husband back to my fathers house. I will never be able to show my husband where I used to sit and stare at the painting on the wall for hours gettting lost in the beautiful sun sett. I will never be able to show him the place of my childhood. But what hurts the most is that I won't have the opportunity to show my kids where I went through everything they have gone through and all they will go through.
But I guess I'll get over it eventually. I'll find a new home. It won't be a home though. It will simply be a house.
Hey, i know that we don't talk anymore because of what happened but i just want to say that i'm sorry for what your going through. Ive been there many times before and it sucks. Like i told you before I will try and be your friend, i have forgave you already, i have gotten over what happened. If you need someone to talk to you have my number. anyways i want t wish you the best of luck... See ya in the pool=]
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