My Home

My Home Faded beams, walls and trims your hardwood floor caked in layers of temporarily fixed boards up like a patchwork quilt. The remnants of construction a permanent fixture along the small recesses of each room, spare wood, leftover cans of paint, and ladders every nail placed with care and hammered through years of sweat and graying hair, each room marked with his brand of pride. Walking through the house of love makes my heart pump faster and faster, as I shake the hand of the realtor I say that this is the one.