deeper than words

Short was the time spent in that city. What was meant to be a lifetime, turned out to be a small chapter filled with ups, downs and in between. Fond are the memories of those four walls, the life it created and the altering events that I didn’t know would play a pivotal role in a future that was yet to come. 

A few years transpired since that silver key last locked that door — a door that was purchased twice since the first one was the wrong size, plentiful were the mistakes, wondering if I would be able to secure those very same four walls that night — on that snowy day in March, March 9th to be precise.

Similar to mistakes, plentiful are my flaws with a big one being my selective memory. It is as if, purposely omitting the bad provides me with the purpose required to endure another day, a mere reminder of why I try so hard. 

Sitting in silence, a now stranger to those familiar streets admiring those four walls. They didn’t glow the same like I remember them to. The grass, no longer green and far too tall, leaving me to wonder if the new custodians even cared. Did they know the zones for the sprinkler system and that the grass needed 8 minutes on alternating days in order to thrive. Did they know that my name was secretly scribed everywhere in those four walls hidden by a baseboard, a tile, a cabinet, an outlet, a layer of drywall, a piece of trim everywhere I could I did. A lot of love went in, and while not perfect, it was all I could give. Would they nurture it a little better if they knew how much of me I put into it? 

A sense of doubt takes over as I start walking away, those four walls no longer belong to me. Maybe I am doing it again, my flaws overpowering me, making me remember something that was not.

As the image fades into the distance, all I know is that I am glad I felt this, a simple reminder that I am still alive.