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1slick_lady
Member Ascendant
since 2000-12-22
Posts 6088
standing on a shadow's lace

0 posted 2004-08-22 05:57 PM



Bay Front Property


    You told me once that you were a closer. Out of all the millions of words said and unsaid, that is possibly the truest statement ever said by you. You are a closer. You walk through doors rushing in with excitement showing all points of interest. Spacious rooms with light, a bright future to be considered, in a house on a fault line. But being easily bored closing all doors behind you, running to the next room without a thought to bridges, walls and hearts you leave behind, all dangling and broken. Where nothing but confusion is left and lines of electricity hanging. And still you want others to see it as it could be, not as you are.
    You are a good salesman and good with lines, but tell me what real estate realtor isn’t? Tempting with words and move in signs, but I wanted something for me and this time I was willing to invest. Maybe I was too willing, once I knew the house, even with the flaws. You say I don’t know you at all – but you and I both know - that I do know you. I see beneath to places others miss. (Did you ever even stop to consider the house and me are more alike than you wanted to see?) I just do not understand you, so much there but always needing to be renovating, never satisfied with what it is you have. A problem of true priority. You need to fix the structure before you start doing anything to the outside. At some point something hurt you -shook your foundation, a pain touched you, and you felt it so deeply that it changed your dimensions causing you to close up. Everything just locked up and windows nailed tightly shut. But you cover it all with the next coat of paint. It is such a sad thing, inside there is a comfortable beautiful house, waiting to be a home but left unlived in.
    I want the best, not second best or second choice, if I can’t have it I want nothing and I am willing to wait till I can get it, be it this house or another. I can wait. But from all I could see, the bay front property was the best.
    You showed me the bay front property. I liked what I saw, knowing everything was not perfect. But time does have a way of making a house a home. From on the deck, I saw myself. I was a paper swan gliding out on the bay. Swans live in the same home for life, they never stray. Maybe it is that you are not a swan at all but more of the crimson water on which I float. Funny when I think of you… I see a swan, but maybe it is just another illusion that you say I see, and write about. And maybe I should consider how good things always look written down on paper, just not the same in disappearing ink living it, as I folded you myself -into a swan. And honestly, I would have done whatever it took to make it work, but how much folding of me would ever be enough… for you?
    Disappointments have a way of stacking up layer after layer. Paint used to fill the holes. Just another decoration added to the last. And we definitely have two different senses of style. True beauty is in the blending of colors and rough edges somehow soften to match the other. It is not my place to judge, for I am not a home owner and filled with holes of my own with patches covered over. Yet, opposites do seem to compliment each other.
    But I do remember a showing at the house when you took your time and it was one of the most incredible things I can remember. A true spilling of a sweet secret shared. It was a place where I heard you for the first time. It was the sound of doors opened from something locked and closed for a long while. And you slowly slipped under my skin. In the background music played of Elton John but it was hushed by your breath. And for the first time, I think I felt your heart. You checked my toes, to see if they were curled. They weren’t and somehow you felt disappointed. I laughed silently to myself for that is just an old wives tale. Where you should have checked, but didn’t, was my heart. You didn’t know it but in my strength you had become my weakness and had curled my world to bend and crumble like foil to wrap around you. Yes, you curled my toes and everything else. You just didn’t know, and walls I had built …came tumbling down.
    Time now has passed since that night and on Friday; I was allowed to be close to that house once again, after a long time of being unable to. But I passed up my chance to see it. No one but me can know how much that hurt, but…. some properties are houses and some are homes. And I just don’t want to rent anymore.

just some words cut out
from the diary of my heart



© Copyright 2004 Helen Chambers - All Rights Reserved
Professor Gloom
Member Elite
since 2000-07-23
Posts 3082
of Depression
1 posted 2004-08-25 05:35 AM


I never liked renting either,
But I never liked buy or selling,
Which probably is why I remained in the same place for so long.
Too long,
For the neighborhood has disintegrated around me,
And the home, which is distinctly me
Seems to refuse to be moved from.
Perhaps some day a Hericane will come by
Or some raging fire will touch the walls,
But probably not.
Move likely, there’ll be a curling of toes,
So to speak, then I’ll find some one to share the lonely walls.

Enjoyed your prose,
Just like I enjoy your poetry,
And I always like a good metaphor

Gloom

Larry C
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Patricius
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286
United States
2 posted 2004-09-07 02:01 AM


Helen,
I will be back to read this, but is late and I must run...

If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again.

Kethry
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082
Victoria Australia
3 posted 2004-09-11 09:44 AM


Helen,
this is an amazing story. it has layers I can't even begin to plumb in one reading. And your words flow out like water creating rainbows across the surface. This sentence all by itself is liquid gold 'as I folded you myself -into a swan. And honestly, I would have done whatever it took to make it work, but how much folding of me would ever be enough… for you?' And the rest was touched by magic or brilliance, I'm not sure which. Wonderful write.

Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind.  Unknown



Larry C
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Patricius
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286
United States
4 posted 2004-09-11 11:31 AM


Helen,
It remains true that I just think you write the most incredible prose. The layers of application to this metaphor seem to be endless. It is wonderfully deep and so well worth pondering. You never disappoint. I impatiently await your next piece of prose.

If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again.

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