from a girl who made a home out of you

To The Yellow House I Spent Most Of My Time In,

You were always yellow to my knowledge. You were always there. You had that bunk bed and that flat-screen television but before that, you had a huge piece of my childhood.

I remember when all the kids were there and we would have the time of our lives. We would come to visit and we would have so many laughs and the fact that they're gone now is heartbreaking. I have vague memories of playing power rangers in your yard. I have memories of playing shop with cousins that weren't actually our cousins. I remember us all piling onto beds so we could all spend the night. I have this one memory of waking up and a cousin was watching Barbie.

There's that one time we decided to climb the cherry tree by climbing the roof. Everyone was scratching after that. But we made our juice. That hammock that would be on the front porch was one of the best things ever. Everyone fighting to get a turn or all of us just trying to pile on together. I can't remember everything clearly because many of those things happened years ago.

We're not even all friends like we used to be. We merely see each other in passing and words are barely exchanged then. And to think we all called each other family. I guess we grew up without you. We left you behind because we didn't need you.

I remember parties that would take place. That one table being filled with different bottles of alcohol. I remember my aunt just pulling bottles out from different places in the house and it was funny to me. I still remember that she slept with a huge butcher knife tucked between her bed and the wall, right by her head. Those were the days.

I can't exactly remember when we started growing up. When we all grew apart. Maybe it was as we all started getting to high school and we made our own friendships, we didn't need each other anymore. Or maybe it's because we got busy with our work and never had time to just play. Or maybe it's because we got sucked into the world of electronics so there was no need for power rangers or shops anymore. It's fine that all happened. It just sucks that we left you behind. And it's not like we can visit because you no longer exist. It's been about three years since you've stood proudly on that hill.

The last things I can remember about you, that ties in to my childhood are bunk beds and Netflix and barbeque chicken. Playing with the grill and having water fights and throwing away wallets with all the fake money we made. But I miss you. You were with me for as long as I can remember. And sometimes I can still hear aunty calling out our names to tell us it's time to come over. And sometimes I can still hear those cousins beckoning us to come and play. And sometimes I can still hear the echos of our childhood telling us it's okay to forget.

From a girl who made a home out of you