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The House on 43rd

A home is a place of gentleness, ease, and warmth.

For 27 years, I came & went.

Though I don’t recall the first time we met,

I do remember you always being my final destination.

A place with food, shelter, and comfort.

In my heart, you will always be my first.

A wooden home with coral stone & wooden floors.

A symbol of modesty, wisdom, happiness and immortality.

It’s hard to know exactly where it all started.

There’s a lot of history behind this secret cottage.

I’ll always remember the neighborhood where I grew up.

A special place I had no choice but to give up.

Buena Vista East.

That was the place to be seen.

People came & went.

Everything began to change, one house at a time.

For a long time, I spent my days out in the sun.

Playing football in the street, cause it was so much fun.

Feels like forever ago.

& one by one everyone chose to go.

Many people had come in & out of this neighborhood.

Out of this house.

Once they were gone, the house was forgotten.

Everyone had gotten exactly what they wanted.

Yet there she was, aging, watching, smiling,

Crackling, standing, barely managing.

In recent years, many of the people that had once grown up there had come to visit.

This house had always been so welcoming. Taking away all of their negativity.

Come on in, take off your coat.
Sit on the couch, get comfortable.
Would you like a glass of water?

A cozy girl, indeed.

In the olden days, before central A/C, the temperatures varied.

In the summers, the windows would be opened, fans on high.

Up in the ceiling & mounted on the windows.

Our white fabric curtains danced around with the wind.

The coolness from the outside breeze did not hesitate to come in.

When it rained, there was no need for fans.

All the windows were opened, & we could feel the house breathing.

I loved the freshness of the outside wind.

My mom always had incense or candles lit.

The wind would blow from one side to the other,

Stirring up the scent of whatever was burning.

The house even sang when the wind blew hard enough.

The chimes outside had such a beautiful melody.

The sound of rain made rainy days feel so lazy.

We wanted to do nothing but play under the covers & snuggle on the couch.

In the fall & in the spring, the temperatures were perfect.

It was never too hot & never too cold. Just perfect.

My favorite part of all days was when the sun came in

through the windows during the sunrise & sunsets.

It was always so warm, & bright.

No need for lights.

And may I say, I couldn’t help but notice that it made her features glow.

She looked so beautiful, like a true cottage.

The winters were a little harsher.

The floors were cold, and the air stiff & dry.

It was hard for us to get out of bed in the mornings.

It was so warm under the covers.

I loved the weekends on those super cold days though.

Pancakes, eggs, sausage, & hot chocolate.

I will always remember those days.

Those beautiful days in that house. The house on 43rd.

This house was the epiphany of memory lane.

I’ve grown up in this house since I was two.

I knew nothing else before her.

The house where it all began.

To the house on 43rd…