Allow me to share with you a memory. A mere two years ago there was a house here. There lived my great grandmother. As a child I would visit her; indeed much of my early life took place here. This was my home; here was safe from my parents and peers. One day everything changed. Fed up with my then-current life I fled. It was on that day that I came to live with my aunt and uncle. My great-grandmother fell deathly ill, and at the time I did not understand why.
It was not until nigh a decade later when she was being moved into assisted living that I understood. I did not recognize the place. I had to help my aunt and grandmother clean the house for appraisal. There was rotting who-knows-what in both indoor and outdoor refrigerators. The garage and carport were filled to bursting with all manner of rubble from the past five decades. Hundreds; thousands perhaps, of empty yogurt cups lined the south wall, washed and neatly stacked. A crate of pamphlets from when she ran for office before my parents were born, piles of rusty metal, board games, paintings, wrecked antiques, and an acute despair were strewn all 'round the place. The walls were cracked, and silverfish were their bitter tears. in the front room lay a table piled with several years worth of of mail (mostly scams she'd fallen for) and boxes more were stacked in a hall much too narrow for them. Many of my old possessions were on a shelf by the front door. The laundry room could barely be recognized as indoors anymore, and the floor had rotted away. Both lawns had died and been reborn as beds of wire and nails. The old cedar you see had grown into one of the windows. The walkway was broken and overgrown; 'twas unsafe for such a frail old lady.
Despite all this, she did not want to leave. It still meant so much to her, and she refused to talk to myself, my aunt, or my grandma for some time. When next I returned to the house, there was no house. What remained was an empty lot smaller than I remember the front room being.
Recently, my aunt woke me to inform me that grandma-ma's nightmare may come to an end. I got my grieving out of the way that day, though she still survives to my knowledge. Though she seems quite happy now her health is rapidly failing; one might say she's rotting but still moving.
To this day I try to remember what that house was like in my boyhood, but even ruin no longer remains. That fractured road to nowhere is barely visible.
Tonight I went and took the above photo. I had just found my old camera and needed to seize the opportunity.
Thank you for sharing your time with me,