Goodbye Sweet Heart

This is not a home. It is a love story.

It was at the end of what would later be called our first date, looking for furniture for her home, me along for the ride solely because of my cargo capacity vehicle, that I walked into her house, burritos (that she bought us) in hand: fat chubby Salvadorian payment for my schlepping assistance.

You own this house?

Yeah.

Sweet.

She gave me a tour. I saw her tiny Toyota completely surrounded by boxes like a crazy person in her spacious two car garage.

I saw her pink bedroom with stenciled vines and a poor mattress set, sans bed frame, rocking a tatami headboard.

How exotic.

Are you making fun of me?

No. I love it.

You ARE making fun of me!!!

I saw an entire floor’s worth of unfinished basement and my eyes grew wide.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Look at this crazy space down here.

Yeah I know.

Do you have any idea what you could do with this space?

Yeah I don't know.

It opened up into a big overgrown backyard.

I love
you
r house.

Thanks.

We ended up getting married.
Me and the girl with the house.
And we laughed
And built
And threw raging parties
And fixed
And laughed
And drank
And dreamt
And ate
And wished
And built
And had kids
And threw quiet kid friendly completely non-raging parties
And loved one another
And loved the little life we build in this lovely house.

We’ll miss you
Dear girl.
May our good times and love continue to
Bounce off your walls
For many more families to come.

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