Home

Grey metal covers the exterior of the old trailer.

Hanging off the white porch, a rebel flag flies proudly in the cool summer breeze.

In the small yard, a brown wooden well homes plastic flowers.

Grounded beside of it sits a blue birdbath molded with the picture of a squirrel climbing up the side.

Two pine trees lean against the neighbor's fence to the right of the home and drop miniature pine cones against the tin roof.

Inside, the kitchen houses a single cactus along with a trailing vine spreading from the top of the curio cabinet, to the edge of a picture frame pinned against the wall.

Cigarette smoke fogs each room of the house from the pink bathroom, to the safari-themed guest bedroom.

On the burgundy couch sits a vivacious woman.

Her short white hair curls against her face, tapping the bright red glasses frames resting on her nose as she inhales through the white cylinder of nicotine and shortened breaths.

Beside her in a child-sized desk painted solely in primary colors and etched in the stencil of a star carved on the back rest, a little girl with brown braids and gaped front teeth colors while blue creatures in white hats flash across the television as they flee from an orange feline.

She doesn't know that in January of her tenth year, those memories will dissolve.

She'll sing "Handful of Weeds" at the funeral and cry when someone purchases the shelter that she called home.

The pine trees will bow to the roaring screams of a metal blade.

An orange and brown trailer will sit in front of the grey one.

Eventually, everything will disappear.

A bare plot will remain, leaving only the recollections of neighbors to pain the picture of previous residents.

She'll find seven pine cones in the yard on July 9th of 2013 and she'll cry.

She'll pass a smoker on the street, catch the scent of nostalgia, and she'll cry.

When the lights go out during a thunder storm, she'll cry because for the first nine years of her life, she never slept alone.

She'll cry.

But she won't be alone.

And when she feels the pressures of adulthood crashing down, she'll get homesick.

So she'll close her eyes and remember the shabby little trailer that educated her about self-defense, forgiveness, and love.

And there, she'll find peace.