Because House, I am going to love you. And before I fall asleep on your wood floor for the first time I’m going to give you all my grief. Just incase you think you want to let your roof fall in or have your water heater break the day after we move in: first I’m going to install all my pain in your walls as I wail out the patience and sacrifice of the past 2 years into the wood beams of your cinderblock structure. And I’m going to fall against your walls and let you catch me.
I’m going to break and be just as disheveled as you are so we can rebuild each other, one room at a time. On day at a time. Paint colors and flooring options. Reclaimed wood and industrial lighting. You and I, House. We’re going to save each other from being condemned.
An address I’m not in love with is going to be number I write on my soul. One-seventy. The first house my adult person has ever really lived in. A present to be present.