A House

A house sat among many other houses.

It was empty. There was no sound of a television or music. No lights went on and off in the windows. The shades stayed in the same place every day.

Coming closer it became apparent that the brick of the house was almost spongy and about to crumble. Not much longer and the house would fall in upon itself. Once that house was full of a family. Photos hung upon the walls. Some had crashed and fallen to the floor. Earthquakes had shaken the region and the floor slanted to the left at a 9 degree angle. There were stains on the carpet from where a sewer line had broken years ago. Acid rain from holes in the roof had eaten away whatever germs had been there. Broken plates and cups scatter-shot across the kitchen floor. An empty dog bowl had slid against a far wall on what was once marble tile.Once a wealthy family had lived here.If you could look from the inside out you could see that the whole neighbourhood was empty.

Cracked and buckled streets were parted with green hair of grass. The trees were still alive. You could see where the old life had been killed and the new had come from seeds squirrel had buried once. There were no bones. No dead bodies.

Carrion eaters had come and consumed them long ago or, they had succumbed to the forces of evolved bacterium. If there had been anything left it was eaten by unseen forces more quickly than the brick that once housed it. Telescoping outwards it became clear that this was a universal condition.

Cars rusted, in the streets going no where, and destinations no longer had any meaning. Grocery stores with smashed glass across patchwork roads from department stores without goods worth selling. The furniture of out-door restaurants rusted in the sun, showing the green of growing copper in the red of iron rust lacing it’s way across black lattice…

“Honey. Why are you looking at the sky like that?”

I look at my mom as she had just driven up to the small, dilapidated apartment where I am living now. “I can see things mom. I can see things in a kind of super-imposition….”

“Tell me what you see I want to know.”

“No you don’t want to know mom I hope you are gone by the time it happens. I hope none of us live to see it but then, the way it looks, none of us do live…”

“Stop talking that way I want to think about happy things!”

How can I tell her I do not ask for these visions? I never asked for them. I never desire to see anything at all I would love to be as blissfully unaware as most…but her words had brought me back to the present reality.

“Honey here is the rest of the casserole I could not eat I hate for anything to go to waste and I know this will save on your grocery bill.”

“Thanks mom I love you.”

“I love you too baby girl.”

Mom is 76 and she still calls me ‘baby girl’. I went back into the should-be-condemned apartment and got online and could not forget the things I had seen as I listened to a Slidely Video I made and wondered to myself,

“All the things we do, everything we make, and all the wealth and applause of the world. It is all nothing. It is destined for nothing. It will become nothing. Why do we care about fame or fortune? Why do we care about who knows if we wrote this or not? Why do we get angry about anything? Why are we happy for any reason? Why…?”

My phone chimes. It is Ali. No more time for a musing.

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