The tea kettle was boiling with an elixir so potent it made the paint chip. Floors creaked from constantly measuring the weight of matter, and the pressure of high expectations sometimes made the ceiling cry. "We're not movin" she said as the appraiser downplayed the value of the house that had walls strong enough to handle the tyrant outrages of four adolescent boys fighting to become men and prayers cried loud and Sunday hymns and door slammed so tight evil could never enter in. The shadows in the yard changed as branches fell from fit's of rage, but God said that it would never rain again for 40 nights and 40 days. This house was no Ark, but sparked by an embark, few thought would ever stand the test of time. "Be patient" became the motto as four brothers packed the carload, there was always something about being in the front seat. With water in one hand, and a glance at some sand, she knew they had the tools to form their own concrete. "Don't be fooled, play the game, their resources are the same", filled their minds when the clouds blocked their shine. For she knew of the tricks, manipulations, conflicts the same brew that made the paint chip. It's not the gloss in the color, or the mood that you get, or a picture hanging high in a frame. If these walls could talk, they'd refused to be covered, cause a great story could be told through pain.
2 comments:
dadada
Don't ever doubt that what you have isn't good enough.. it may not be of value to anyone else, but due to the hard work, determination, and life books of Urs and ur families in general , the strong memorable house, stood and was of almost worthless value in someone else's eyes. If it wasn't for all the pain and rough times , she would never know what caused the paint to chip and learn anything from it.
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