This House

How did we get here, boy?

In the best times these walls swelled with love, joy, laughter.
You held your wife close here
You brought your sons home from the hospital to my secure embrace.
You became a family,
You made this house a home.

But then the sparks began to ignite,
Small at first- furtive glances and snide remarks
Soon became climbing flames and billowing smoke of lies, deception, shouting and tears.

You burned me from the inside out, used the memories as kindling.
Until
There
Was
Nothing
Left
But these four walls.

Destroyed me forever, I was a casualty of your destruction.
There is no more home without a family inside.

And yet
You both stayed
In this charred skeleton of a structure,
A hollow monument to your old life.

Fourteen long months you lived amongst the rubble and glowing embers.
Telling yourselves and the boys it was okay,
To my dismay, you continued to call these ruins home.

I know your intentions are pure,
My walls weep for you as you cling to your old life, just as you cling to me—even though neither exist anymore.
I watch in despair.
I observe the pain in the curve of your shoulders, the love in your voice as you play with your sons, the contempt in your cursory interactions with your still-wife.

And finally, I’ve had enough.
I evict this sad, broken family with a deafening crack.
I shudder under the weight of sadness.
You’re not welcome here anymore. This house is not a home, this family is no longer one.

Start over my remains whisper to the soles of your shoes,
As you stand amidst the rubble.

Let go, son. It’s time.
This isn’t the ending, it’s the start of a new beginning.
Your sons love you.
You’ve found someone new- she loves you too.
Let the past go. It’s okay to be scared.
Today is the beginning of the rest of your life.

You’re welcome, and I’ll miss you too.