| 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭

✿

i was in a house

not quite born yet—

bare bones,

open floors,

the echo of something becoming.

the neighborhood was quiet,

but the inside danced—

old classmates,

familiar faces pulled from memory’s attic.

we laughed, we moved,

feet on cement,

the music of being young.

i sat down,

still breathless.

behind me,

John—

serious, still, unreadable.

a storm behind the eyes.

we were called forward,

not for ceremony,

but for joy.

we joked, we smiled,

we were just alive.

i told a friend,

“this is fun.”

and it was.

simple. golden.

but John—

he didn’t change.

his stillness pulled at me.

then i saw Jerald,

further back,

soft smile,

a quiet light.

a door opening.

the message turned to building—

finishing the house,

laying down stone

and meaning.

i found my hands in bags of cement,

dust rising like memory.

Jerald helped.

no words.

just the rhythm of work,

of quiet understanding.

people left,

but we stayed.

talked.

laughed.

built.

years ed

like minutes.

the house stood tall,

painted with time.

a gazebo out front,

dogs at our heels,

love folded into every wall.

one day, he came home,

and brought another dog.

i smiled like sunlight.

but then—

a window.

a whiteboard.

a list i couldn’t read.

lights blinked out in the distance,

and something cold brushed past.

John came.

not with flowers.

not with words.

but with violence.

he tried to unmake what we made.

we survived.

and now—

the house still stands.

the dogs still bark.

Jerald still smiles.

and i am still here,

inside the dream,

inside the home,

we built

from dust,

from past,

from something like love.

——

The house stood, shaped by time, effort, and silent understandings. Through joy and tension, what was once unfinished became something real. Love, like the walls we built, endured—tested through silence, through distance, through storm. Some faces stayed, others left, but in the end, what we created held strong.

This poem-like story was inspired by a strange dream I had. A few things I learned from having this dream, that love and connection can build something lasting, even from dust. Joy lives in simple moments, and real bonds don’t always need words. Some carry quiet pain, others bring quiet strength. Time moves fast, but meaning grows slow. Even when others try to tear things down, what’s built with care can endure. In the end, survival is its own kind of beauty.

pics not mine