There’s an old green house down the street from my own, with a roof that is caving in, but a garden full of plants that are as young as the season. The driveway is made of tiny rocks that hurt your bare feet, but there’s a pond in the backyard that shows one their true reflection. There are ugly weeds that stick their heads up above the tall grass in the backyard, but the ivy that clings to the side of the fence is green and holds the beauty that the weeds lack.
A girl used to live there. She was little, no older than six, with blond hair and blue eyes, and a curiosity that continued to grow. She played with the worms that crawled in the dirt and climbed the tree that stood tall in her yard. She drew with chalk all over her sidewalk and invented characters that weren’t real and memories that never happened. In her own little world, where she spent most of her days, there were no worries, no crimes, and no hurt. There were no conflicts, no fights, and no wars. There was only her little world and the innocence that inhabited it and the peace that followed, and that was all the girl needed.
She grew up quickly. Over the years, she got taller and her face matured and she didn’t spend her days playing with the worms and climbing the trees. Sometimes she’d come out and stand on the porch, gazing at the sidewalk that used to be colorful, and then she’d return to her house, shutting the screen door behind her, forgetting that she used to be fascinated with the fairies that she believed hid behind all the leaves of her garden.
One day someone walked up to her door, banging their fist against the frame and calling out the girl’s name. They stood on her porch, waiting for an answer until the sun began to set and the day began to end. They realized that only a deadly silence would emerge from that old green house down the street from my own so they turned and they left without another word.
The girl disappeared, never seen again. Years passed and the house remained untouched. The roof sank a little deeper in on itself, but the plants in the garden were as youthful as ever. The rocks still stuck in your feet if you walked over them without shoes, but the pond continued to show you your honest reflection. The ugly weeds grew a little bit taller but the ivy got a little bit longer, and besides all that, nothing had changed to that old green house down the street from my own.
Another day, later than the last, another girl appeared on the porch of that old green house. She was young, no older than twelve, with blond hair and blue eyes, and a dream that continued to grow. She set up a hammock on the porch that was attached to the back of the house and fell into it, rocking herself back and forth until the rhythms of the world around her lured her to sleep.
When she woke up, she went back inside that old green house, and pulled a book off the shelf. She took another, and another, until she held a large stack in her arms. She took them out to her hammock and read each one, the words filling her head and coursing through her veins as each thing she learned stuck to her brain like another post-it with a note written on it. Then because her brain had grown so full of lessons and facts, she needed a rest and fell asleep once again, the stack of books by her side, their words singing her a lullaby as she slept.
When she woke up, she took them back inside that old green house and tucked them back into their places, remembering all that she had learned the day before. The post-its still stuck to her brain, she went and applied all that she learned. She cooked herself a meal, with aromas that willed you to take a bite, if only one. She sat by the piano and let her hands dance on the notes, the instrument singing to the whole neighborhood. She took out a piece of paper and a single pen and wrote down her name and all of the other words that filled her head, every letter, every sentence, every space between each character.
And when she was finished, she went out to her hammock and fell asleep once more. Someone came to pay her a visit, sneaking around back, the small rocks sticking in their feet. They called out her name and searched the yard. The final thing they saw before they left was the empty hammock on the porch. The girl had disappeared in her sleep and was never seen again at that old green house down the street from my own.
And now I wait for the next girl to come and I hope I can see her honest reflection in that pond out back so I can see what she’s become over the days she’s missed. I walk on the sidewalk that used to be an artist’s canvas and stare at that old green house. The roof is a bit closer to the earth although the plants still held the youth of the world in each leaf. The gravel scraped your feet if you walked without shoes but the pond showed the reflection that one needed to see. The ugly weeds were as tall as they’ve ever been but the ivy was longer than ever before, and besides all that, nothing had changed to that old green house down the street from my own.
I continue to wait for the next girl to come so I can see what she was brought here to do. I want to see if maybe she’ll pick those weeds and tie them together to make a necklace to hang around her neck. I want to see if maybe she’ll take those rocks and try to skip them over the pond’s waters. I want to see if maybe she’ll use the pieces of the dying roof to make a new lemonade stand, to share with the neighborhood a drink that’ll quench any thirst. All I want to do is to see if that girl will come at all.
Both of those girls from the past were versions of me, the young one my childhood years, the older one the years after. I wait for the next girl to come to show me what I am to be in this world, full of war and peace, love and hate. I wait for this next girl because I know that pieces of us leave and pieces of us come and pieces of us stay throughout each and every one of our lives. Sometimes we can decide which pieces to keep and sometimes we don’t. However, I do believe that we can decide which pieces to remember and which pieces to forget, and that decision can make all the difference.
For now, though, I’ll watch that old green house down the street from my own to show me the girl I want to become.