The white house.

I walk passed it with its white siding and fence around the whole thing. There is a window that projects out of the it. The backyard is big enough for small children to run around and play a game such as tag. No trees in the yard. The car port can have at least 2 cars in the driveway at a time. One only has to walk a few steps to the front door as they park in the driveway. It is easy access in case in rains.

This house used to be my former boyfriends father’s house. Now, it is nothing more than a stranger’s house. There sits a Big Wheels Coupe in the yard. At one point, there was 3 adults living in the house. Then there were 2. Now, there lives a family.

Two summers ago, I met the father. I sat in that backyard conversing with the rest of the family as well. I ate in that backyard as his fathers old roommate talked to me about writing. It meant something to me two years ago and now it’s nothing but a white house at the corner of Chestnut lane.

Recently, when I walked by the house, there is a shade. That is relatively new because when I sat back there, there was merely a temporary over hang to keep the sun out of our eyes as we had a party for my former boyfriend.

I’ve visited that house at least 5 times in my life. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but at the same time, it felt like so much.

Have you ever thought of something that means a great deal to you then life changes and you feel nothing towards it?

Well, the problem is it still DOES mean something. It’s a feeling of sadness and change as I walk by it today. It hits me as hard as a baseball. It is strong and out of the blue strikes me. Why am I still a little glum over this house?

I really couldn’t tell you why this hit me all of a sudden.. Maybe because I am reading a book called the “Search for meaning” by Dennis Ford. If you’re into “meaning” then you’ll want to pick this book up and read it.

The faces that pull up to this house are family members, friends, cousins, former boyfriend/ girlfriends of another girl and boy.

When you walked into this house, you are in a den with a tv and a couch. After you pass this room, you pull a sliding door and see the kitchen. The kitchen table, I sat there the 2nd time I met the father. Him and his father sat there and debated as I had no choice but to listen.

The 3rd time was when his father was on vacation and were there alone: him and I clammed up. We were suppose to try some “things” but it fell and we just talked.

The 4th was on July 4th,2009. We watched fireworks in his fathers yard.

There was no shed, no kid car, no kid supplies under the car port.

The 5th was probably the worst because as I walked my dog with my brother, I went over to say hello and it was completely awkward. The reason was because I hardly said a word and his father didn’t have much to add. It was a disaster.

However, I’ve seen his father at his new house, with his girlfriend, about 3 times and I know how to have a conversation now.

But in the white house there lives a family with no connection to me whatsoever.

This doesn’t have direct meaning to what I am talking about, but it is around the ballpark. It is a quote by one of my favorite authors.

“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.”
-Albert Camus


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