Moving Out and Moving On

The earth-colored, adventurous house: giant rock, orange couch, balancing beam

The deep blue (disguised as sunset-orange) house: salamander named Jesse, fairy houses, snowmobiles

The yellow, wide-eyed apartment: fish, playhouses, mean geckos 

The simple, sky-blue house: bunk beds, tooth fairy, horse blanket

The fresh, lavender Inn: Subway, Paddington, pita chips

The baby-blue, uncomplicated house: green chair, zucchini, earrings

The white, clueless house: horseshoe crab trail, four-wheelers, stuffed animals

The deep-brown house: tan rocking chair, quiet minds, old photographs

The impostrous, beige house: cold winter night, yellow walls, emptiness

The pink house tinted red: bar stools, gray tiles, unlucky neighbors

The gray, monotonous house: bumpy roads, three rooms, big yard

In the sunset-orange house on the river, I only saw the orange, never the deep blue hidden underneath the thick paint. It took time and change to see this house’s true color. Of course, then there is the pink house. This house was a strong, bold magenta, and it stayed that way until the walls chipped a little and you could see a hint of the dark red painted underneath. There were two light-blue houses, one a sky-blue and the other a baby-blue, similar but different. They were simple and I would like to still think of them that way, but they have changed. Their walls rotted and the heat ran out leaving no more warmth, only a feeling like the cold of winter mornings. The beige house was supposed to be a new beginning with a quiet street and warm nights spent by the fire. This house was an imposter, however, because, after a while you could see the frost seeping through the cracks in the floor and the coyotes howled outside the windows. 

Out of all of these houses, only a few were homes, the places I least expected. These places were not always ideal and I knew that, but when I think of them I miss them. I tried to revisit one of my old homes, but it has shrunk. I drove down the road and it led me to a dead end; was it always a dead end? The driveway we used to ride our bikes in looked as if it could fit only a small car. The big tree out front had fallen and the field had been overgrown. My memory of this house being large was due to how small I was; everything is big when you are little. I’m not little anymore, however, and seeing this house showed me that I cannot live in the past. If I were to go back my feet would hang off my bed and I would have to crouch in the kitchen. My past houses will always be alive in my memories of them, but if I were to go back these memories would die. Going back disturbs the memories and the mind, so instead,  I will have to move on and carry my memories of the past with me. 

Featured Image: “Colorful row of houses, blue, green, yellow, orange, blue, green, pink, purple, orange, yellow, green, blue, black and silver cars, street sign, N 35th and Meridian Ave N, Seattle, Washington, USA” by Wonderlane is licensed under CC BY 2.0.