Dream Home

I went to an open house.

“Well-loved bungalow with endless potential.”

The house was dwarfed on either side 

by modern monoliths

and seemed resigned to its fate,

its failing eaves

resembling 

the stooped shoulders of

one defeated by time.

 

Still, the realtor invited the curious,

the questioning,

and the skeptics

to see 

potential.

Inside, a young couple 

held up paint chips

next to wallpaper spotted with the silhouettes

of past frames.

A developer, meanwhile,

hunched over the formica island with a pad,

his pencil scratching numbers 

in quick succession.

 

I considered

the yellowing linoleum

curving away from scuffed cupboards,

the refrigerator’s murmurs,

and the exuberant crayon drawings 

not entirely erased from the walls

And I envisioned the dream home 

where lifetimes linger. 

Text: Lynne Westerhof

Photography: Joel Faber