This house is a simple house. A standard floor plan that has been duplicated all around the north west side of Tucson, AZ and probably in many other parts of the U.S
But in 1998 when I was only 11-years-old this was the house that was supposed to make our dreams come true. It was the house that was supposed to finally make us a family. It was supposed to stop all of the mean words and all of the moving around from one apartment complex to the next.
I was so excited to finally have my own room, a back yard, and just to live in a neighborhood full of other kids. In the beginning, I would wake up every morning full of excitement, make my bed, and just stand in the middle of my room illuminated with joy relishing my new home. My room went through so many evolutions in the 10 years I lived there. That house has become a part of me.
In that home I've experienced some of the most beautiful memories ever in my life as well as endured some of the most painful.
It hurts me more than anything to see the house my parents were supposed to grow old in with a realtor sign on it. Divorce can kiss my ass and good byes are a fucking bitch.
Life is just full of hellos and farewells ain't it?