The House We Built

*This piece, whatever it may become, is based off of an album of pictures from Laura Hetzel Photography. My friend Jordan is the subject along with an old abandoned house. Lovely stuff.

**Think it's done

This house that we built, if you want to call it a house anymore, still stands. It stands exactly where it has always stood. Between the two oak trees, set off from the road. My life has revolved around this house. I can remember when I would play around those trees as a young girl. Before the house came. I can remember lying beneath the branches, watching the shadows of the leaves dance across your face. Do you remember that day? The day we began building our lives? The day we began building our house?
It started as a blueprint in our hearts. As our lives grew more entwined the plans became more elaborate. Soon the white lines matched my gown as I walked the aisle. You looked at me from the end of the long carpet, with eyes filled with tears. Where are those tears now? Mine are all gone, I have none left. Not after all these years.
The walls went up first. We lined them with beautiful cypress, sanded smooth by the salty winds of the marsh. Some days I could only sit and watch you and our fathers work. Our little one was relentless. So I would sit under those trees, singing softly to my baby. Hoping that she would look just like you.
She was even more beautiful than I think either of us ever imagined. Her big brown eyes, always opened wide, staring at everything around her. We named her Estelle, after your mother and she grew up in this house. Even while we were picking out the color of her room she was exploring her new world. Remember when we had to put all the paint buckets on stools so she wouldn't take a dip in them? Our baby girl grew up in this house, running through the hallway and hiding under the quilts on our bed.
There are too many painful memories in this house. Memories of my sweet girl, and of you. You my strong, tall man. The oven still stands where it has always stood, in the kitchen against the long wall. Everything else in here is gone. Forever. Isn't it ironic... that the thing that took everything away from me is still here. It is the only thing I have left, except the walls. The black walls. Once blue, and yellow, and green.
My sweet little girl...
I can no longer weep. Please don't think badly of me for it. I just have nothing left to offer. You took my heart when you were born, and you took my soul when you left.