My House’s
Perspective
I know she
prayed for me,
after years of
living in trailers.
She and her
husband
built me with
their own hands
and many other
hands as well.
They moved in
on her son’s fourteenth birthday.
I didn’t get to
know her seventeen-year-old daughter
very well, because
she went off to college.
I got to know
the son, though.
She thought he’d
never leave, at twenty-four.
I took a lot of
abuse in my lifetime.
She and her
husband took in two people
who couldn’t
care for themselves.
The wheel chair
wore ruts in my carpets.
The man didn’t always
reach the bathroom in time.
Then her
husband had two strokes.
The people had
to leave. I had some reprieve.
But years of
abuse left me down and depressed.
My carpets were
worn and stained.
My paint had
become cracked and drab.
But then they
went on vacation.
I saw my opportunity.
It took just a
few wiggles
and the worn
washer hose burst.
Now, something
had to be done.
They came home
and saw me flooded.
Six rooms were
ruined.
But I saw that
she was hopeful
when she sent
her husband
to live with
her kids for three months.
She worked hard
for a year
and hired
others as well.
She scrubbed
and painted.
She had new
carpet installed.
Their friend
even built a wonderful back porch.
Then the
landscaper came. I look lovely
with my new
paint, carpet, porch,
and fenced-in
landscaped yard.
I’m calm, quiet
and beautiful.
No more noise
and abuse. I’m content.
But it would be nice if she cleaned me more often.
