The rain is pattering. The city is welcoming. Huge construction boards. An empty house. Oh, I've grown. Up on the wall is a poster. Dusted and stacked the bookshelf. Crack. Pictures framed. Time paused, smiley faced. I don't recognize this place anymore. This is my home. Crack. The city smells of petrichor. The city is filled with muck and dust. Is there dust back on the bookshelf? Ugh. Now, there's dust in living room too. The crack stares back at me. A new dining table takes a seat. When can I see the clear blue sky? The blue sea is out of view now! Oh, a lovely construction project, so convenient, life will be. When was life convenient last? Crack. Did you miss me, mom? She sits alone in the room. Maybe I should see the photo frame again. The sealed papers came in. My mother sits alone in the room. There is a sea face being built. Muck everywhere. What's good without bad though? What's good or bad? Anyway. The house is full. I feel the absence of something. Is it because there is a new presence? The crack is sealed. A new dining table has made a comfortable seat. My mother smiles. Right next to me.
