712 got a new door.
The house looks a little less run down these days. You know how the faded, dirty yellow kind of just blended in to the chipping dark green door? The door underneath those three windows. Sometimes I stare at them as I drive by on my way home and think of crawling out them. Your technique was a little different than mine..but both worked just the same. We would catch cars going the wrong way down Main Street and talk to people walking underneath us. We escaped the ground in that way.
I don’t know if the door fell down or what…
But now the front door is not the same color as those porch posts and it doesn’t just fade into the blur I see through my drivers side window as I head down town.
It stands out.
Kind of like how we moved out. It just…feels different.
The door is bleach gone bad. The brand new white clashes. It’s starting to become every other new house on Main Street: so clean and cut just right, white trim, white doors, white fences. So… alike in every way. We fell in love with 712 for it’s character. It was so crooked. It creaked with every step on every floor. It had nooks, and overly large slanted ceiling closets. It had a bathroom the size of a bed room with carpet. It didn’t always make sense. It wasn’t always up to code (like when a mushroom was growing through the bathroom floor by the shower upstairs) but that door…
I picture never locking it because I couldn’t figure out the perfect amount of pull in order to flip the key.
I picture you opening the front window and reaching in to unlock it in the rare case that someone else did.
From my room upstairs I could tell exactly who was coming through the door. I always new it was you. I could tell by the slam before I heard the scream,
I can feel it. Whatever emotion that is. When your whole body flashes back to that one collective moment. Because there were some variations from time to time (I can slightly remember you walking in one day and just screaming). “Nostalgia” may or may not be right but whatever it is, I’m sad you’re not here but I’m so, so, so happy you’re traveling for us. Because I hope you know I’m traveling through you (so you better do some rully, rully cool stuff) and if you’re ever longing for a little bit of home, think of walking through that crooked door, through that creaking house, up those teeny-tiny stairs, down the diagonal hallway, into my door and scooting right out that window. Onto the roof that sits right above that crooked door.