The Domiciles Project



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Am I here?
I am still. The teardrops twinkle above my head and I float endlessly around the room, in my family’s voices, in the flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the walls, in the crowd of neighbors huddled outside the gaping door. Red stains the floor just as it does the walls. Was this an accident? No one knows. Only a trace of yellow is left below to identify that I was there- Am I still here? I’m really not sure anymore. Now, my world is constantly spinning.
My family is here.
Yes, the Madisons are the epitome of the perfect family. They always had been, down to the single pieces of crystal cut glass hanging from the chandelier above the foyer, each flat pane perfectly symmetrical. I never fit this mold. I was the jagged piece of crystal, a little dull in shine, the so-called “black sheep” of the family, deciding against the banking business in favor of pursuing my art. I spent my days in the backyard pool house, still living at home as a 27-year-old man. So, when I missed a step that day and everything came to nothing, the world went black and I was set free. But, I left you, the one thing that kept me sane within the structured and material world of my family, a place where I didn’t fit in. I was free from them, but I left you behind. I left you...
The truth lies here.
I always knew that my family wasn’t perfect. They put on this facade that everything was right in their world, but it wasn’t. The yelling, the shattered glass, and the crying; it was all cleaned up in a quick flourish and what was broken was glued together again. I escaped this when I met you. We would walk along the path away from my house, and we would comment that the area needed some color to brighten things up a bit. We were right. We had dreams together to run away, to leave this life behind, to start over again. Now, that life is gone. I am still spinning.
You are here.
The yellow seems to fade more each day- I am starting to go crazy. Only you could see it and I am fading away, each piece of me spinning away into the universe, going a million miles an hour, farther and farther away from home. But, you find a way to bring me back, just when I think I am going to disappear forever. You implant my memory into nature, with apple blossoms, thousands blooming in full force each year. They line the dusty road leading up to the house. I am here because you are here. You preserved my memory when I thought all was lost. The blossoms are my laughter and my smile. I am now anchored to the path we once walked on- I am no longer spiraling out of control. So, as the purple petals fall softly onto the clear pond, you sit on the startlingly white porch and remember. You remember me. I remember you. You sit and stare out at a sea of purple, a gift from you to me. I am still again.

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