Falling Apart

On a hill, overlooking a forest of green pine and oak trees stands a house. The house where my father was raised. Over the years, it's seen many additions and repairs. The kitchen was recently redone. The garage filled with memories. The back porch was a haven for my grandmother in the spring and summers. So many times I've spent the night in the basement, staying up late giggling and watching movies with my cousins until dawn.

I was just saying to a co worker the other day how wonderful this next week was going to be. I would go up to grandma and grandpa's and sit on the back porch reading books and singing songs, laughing and just being together.

But now the house is gone - the house, the back porch, the garage, everything. Everything they've ever known turned to ash. And I wonder why this happened, and I know that God has a purpose.

He saved my grandparents' lives, but turned their house to rubble. A house that has served as a refuge for my family during the summers and housed my two loving grandparents for so many years.

I know God has a reason for this, but sometimes I wish things would just stay the same. I am still in shock from the news of my second home falling to pieces. I still cannot wrap my head around it. I will miss the way I would try not to break my neck while descending the stairs to the basement. I will miss sitting on the back porch, drinking lemonade and watching the three boys play in the sandbox. I will miss the house that sheltered me from New York summer storms.

But the memories I made there will live on in my heart and hopefully someday soon, the house can be rebuilt by those who cherish all the memories and wish to see the house stand tall yet again.