5. THE HOUSE
THE HOUSE
Oak trees embraced the house. Fields of wildflowers swayed in pops of reds and yellows along the gravel road which led families to the little house.
Out back, a steady stream babbled along, and the house eavesdropped on the frantic movements of squirrels and racoons storing food and bickering over territory.
Beyond the river, birch trees stood tall with their skinny trunks, watchful and ready to judge hikers who underestimated the trails.
When the house was new, families came and went, year after year, filling the space with their energies and turbulence and warmth.
The house became infused with recipes and songs and the quiet alchemy of prayers.
Violence and rage seeped into the walls as well, enmeshing itself by the grit and the fumes and the uncanny way people transformed with alcohol coating their tongues.
The laughter and giggles of imaginations peppered the rooms with light.
The house understood family dynamics intimately as it learned, watched, and listened. One truly never knows what happens behind closed doors, but when Isela, Alfonso, and Olivia Velasquez walked through the bright red door, the house knew that this was the family who could handle what was to come.