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755 Words
C H A P T E R E L E V E N
S T A R T I N G O V E R
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S O N G:
M I D D L E O F S T A R T I N G
O V E R
SABRINA CARPENTER
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THE SUN GREETS us, pure and warm, the green rolling hills sloping in the background meeting the cloudless sky at the ever stretching horizon.
It's picturesque.
A dilapidated house stands formidable, but it represents hope to me.
Its structure creaks, but I hear improvement. I will fix this house, I will fix myself and I will fix my life.
Point blank, period.
Addison shies away from the ranch, cringing behind me.
"Momma," he asks carefully, "we're not living here, are we?"
I nod happily, chuckling at his horrified expression.
"But...it looks like it'll fall on us, like my block houses."
"You do love block houses, don't you?"
"Yes, but they're not structurally sound," he informs me.
"Where did you learn that from?"
Addison looked away.
"I heard Father say it once. It means you can't live there, or have people there or they'll die."
A regretful hush falls over us.
I notice Addison only calls Sebastian Father now; I can only imagine he's learned the difference on his own.
Shame fills me.
He shouldn't have to know the difference. He should have a Dad.
Unfortunately, shouldn't often is. I've learned that the hard way. So I give my son the realest smile I can muster, and kiss his head.
"We'll fix it up together, my little architect. And, it is structurally sound; it just needs a little TLC."
"What it needs is a condemned sign," he muttered, dragging his feet as I usher his reluctant little body onto the porch.
I shot him a questioning look, to which he flatly replied, "Father."
Digging in my purse, I pull out my keys, opening the door. The outside of the house did not tell the beauty of the inside.
It was old, a little dirty, but it was beautiful.
It was a one story ranch house, the floors wooden but in need of polish. The paint on the walls was an k color, chips making for an unsightly interior.
Windows paneled the living room, making it an atrium; sunlight touching it. The kitchen was spacious, but nothing was in it.
The bedrooms were in about the same shape, and the bathrooms; well, they needed a lot of work.
But all in all, this little ranch would become our home.
"Okay, Addieboy. Any ideas?"
"I think blue would be nice in the wall, especially into living room, since there's so much sunlight, it's like a mini sky."
"Perfect. I agree, it'll be like have our sunny sky. But first, we need to go the store, and get cleaning supplies."
Addison made a face, but nodded.
I would be happy if it was the last thing I did.
·•·
Six months later...
ADDISON SWIPED HIS brow, panting as he stepped back to look at the wall.
We'd done it.
"We finally did it, Addieboy!"
He grinned widely, nodding vehemently.
"It looks awesome!"
We finished. The formerly dilapidated ranch was no more. In it's place stood a beautiful home.
We had the outside done, painting it baby blue.
The floors had been redone, now polished wood had replaced the creaky floor.
The living room was now equipped with a TV, with a corner sofa wrapping around a coffee table.
Under it was white carpets, though I knew I'd regret that choice sooner or later.
A table of wood sat in the dining room, four chairs wrapped around it.
Granite formed a bar, separating the two rooms. Four barstools lined against it.
Our bedrooms were made, Addison's bold red, mine black and gold.
The two guest rooms had been fixed, soft blue and muted toned comforters on the bed.
"It's beautiful," I grinned at Addison.
"Your forreal smile is beautiful, Momma."
"Such a charmer," I tease.
August was hot and heavy upon the mountains of New York, and school was fast approaching.
I'd finally finished my MBA, and made a living doing what I do best; creating.
I'd opened a boutique, and though I wasn't rich, it was profitable. Being in such a small town made publicity a breeze, and I'd fast become a favorite among the younger women.
I had fixed my life, I'd fixed myself and I fixed that house.
Point blank, period.
- Writer
