the house

I used to walk down this long road, passing houses I’d passed countless times before. Each one was different yet beautiful and worthy of admiration. But there was this one house. This house had never quite been my cup of tea though I didn’t know why. And, as if I was trying to protect myself, I would do my best to walk past it without looking too long.

But one day, I decided to face my fear and look at the house the way I saw the others. It was difficult at first since the house’s floor plan didn’t match the typical floor plans I thought I liked at the time, but I was dedicated to giving the house a proper chance. So I kept looking, and before I knew it, I had grown to like the house’s imperfections. The misplaced bathroom no longer bothered me. The tiny kitchen began to feel cozy. The broken wall outlets became something that was easily fixable. I ended up loving the house because there were other features of the house that I believed more than made up for the inconveniences and maybe even explained some of them. So I decided that I would stay in the house, and love every aspect of the house. Even the parts that I wasn’t fond of.

To my surprise, every day that I spent in that house was much more difficult than the last. However, in my youthful stubbornness, I refused to leave the house because the house had potential. I swore to myself and everyone else that the house’s imperfections could be fixed and that it just takes time and effort. Then, the shelves in the pantry that I loved so much began to fall. The green grass in the backyard started spotting, and the smoke detector went off when there was nothing that could possibly be smoking. One by one, all the things that made up for the house’s imperfections began to fail me.

I held on for as long as I could handle it, but, finally, I left the house. I took time to mourn the loss of the home that I thought I would have forever. When I thought that I was finished grieving, I decided to drive by the old house in hopes of understanding what went wrong. The house looked the same as it did when I first moved in, but this time I could tell that it was haunted. I understood that when I left the house, it didn’t leave me. I finally understood that when I moved in, I agreed to let the house haunt me for eternity.

a short story I wrote about soul connections. You can find the written story on my blog. — This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. — Send in a voice message: Support this podcast:


sometimes soul connections never really leave you

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