That house in that remote village whose name I can’t remember was my favorite spot. My chill spot, my perfect spot. That house, that grass thatched house was more than heaven. It was peace in simplicity, it was abundance in good measure, it was more than enough.
That house in that strange place reminds me so much of who I was. If its mud walls could speak then they would compel me to open my throbbing heart and share the bounty with those that lacked. That house filled me with grace, filled me with dreams, filled me with ambition. It gave me a new lease to life. It presented me with the opportunity to discover how deep my love runs.
That house, in that familiar place reminds me so much of pain, excruciating pain that will always linger in my mind. If its stone walls could speak then it would cry blood from the agony it witnessed. The agony that camped in my abode after everything had lost meaning. The scars that were the order of the day in my life. That house reminds me of emptiness. Emptiness that was my life, that surrounded, my life that filled my life.
That house in that town where I first fell in love with life reminds me so much of broken dreams,broken promises, broken beauty, broken love. It reminds me of a blurred future, so blurred I could barely comprehend it. That haunted house in that god-damned place that made me regret the path to life that I had chosen. That house where my heart was broken into tiny unfixable pieces. It reminds me of failure.
That house in that beautiful town where I grew up in reminds me of scars, scars of love. Scars than run so deep that healing will be a tall order. Scars so indelible that not even Jesus can wash them. Scars so fresh they get me in a sombre mood every time I think about that place. Scars so fresh they bleed to date. Scars that shaped my love life, that shaped what I wanted in a marriage, that shaped what I could take from a man and what not, that determined my threshold to pain.
That house in that remote village where we had cultivated love, where we had built a family, where we had planned for the future wreaked of failure. It tasted like regret and stunk like a corpse. It smelled like lies, looked like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The outside was inviting, all and sundry to get in and have a glimpse but it was only a façade.
That house in that beautiful town reminds me so much of a narcissist and a lifetime with him. It reminds me of a dark time, a dark era. It reminds me of my union with the devil’s incarnate, how I wined and dined with him, made love to him severally and even had a baby by him. It reminds me of torture, physical, emotional and psychological. It reminds me of hell and how hot its fire burns.
That house in my dream town reminds me so much of how love eluded me, like a bandit. How passion and love clouded my judgement. How naïve I had been to build hope and let it barricade me, giving me hope of a future so bleak. That house, that forsaken house that makes me scorn in utter disgust reminds me of how beautiful life can be yet the beauty could be artificial and so short lived such that when its washed away by a heavy downpour it leaves you as the laughing stock. How foolish I could be.
That house clouded my judgement, gave me warmth as if to protect me from external factors that were detrimental to my wellbeing only for me to realize that I was better off stranded in a desert alone with no hope of making it to the main land alive. That house was such a kill joy I could frown at the thought of it, it left me with so much pain and hopelessness I could barely find myself. That house turned out to be my hell, with all the unwelcomed companions laughing mockingly at me, taunting me to react so that they would throw me to the eternal fire where I would burn to ashes.
That house in that small town reminds me of a stranger, a stranger that turned out to be my temptation. Temptation that sent me running, kept me on my toes. Temptation so strong I could compromise my values, my morals my dreams just to have a taste of him. That house reminds me of peace, of good and hearty laughter that filled my heart and soul with immense peace. It reminds me of what I can’t have no matter how badly I want it. It reminds me that soul mates do exist, but they might be taken and thus not within our reach. It reminds me that sometimes you gotta love people from a distance, watch them being happy and be still just knowing that things are working out for them. That house reminds me that in life we win some and we lose some and its okay. That sometimes we have to get away from what we really want to allow destiny to find us wherever we are. That sometimes we have to let go no matter how difficult that could be. It reminds me of beauty, the beauty in people, in true friendships and in serene environments.
This new house, gives me hope. Signaling a new chapter, a new beginning, the end of a dark era. I choose to call it the awakening. It’s a representative of who I am, what I have been through and where I want to go. Its my hub of hope, my hub of immeasurable stillness and peace. Its covered with acres of grace and love, unconditional love. It gives me positivity in good measure, reassuring me of a bright future ahead. In here, I feel like I have found myself, reconnected with who I was before I lost myself chasing after shadows and dreams. It fills me with immense peace knowing that no one is in my space and that I can finally enjoy my company and enjoy a cup of coffee with no distraction. I know healing will find me, I don’t have to search for it. I’m resolved to being still and letting all the good things find me here, in this new house!