The Little Yellow House

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There once was a little yellow house built hastily in the midst of a dried up pasture. It was built by two architects that drew up the plans to create this little house but didn’t put much thought into it's foundation, they simply united in a whirlwind of desire to create shelter. Brick by brick they created; they built the little house on their own, they laid some bricks solidly, others they laid crookedly with no love or semblance of destiny. By the end of its creation it appeared that the little house was actually created simply to be demolished. For years the little yellow house withstood storm after storm, force after force, season after season. Pieces of her roof flew off, her windows broke, and walls caved. The days were long and hard, and during this time the little yellow house was gloomy and lonely. The sun was gone, the grass was dried up, the thunder roared and lightning cracked. There was nothing or no one else in site, just the rundown little yellow house in the middle of the pasture, all alone.

Until one day a little old architect learned about the little yellow house. Now this architect had designed many houses before, she was tired and worn, but knowing how much care the little yellow house needed the architect wanted to intervene and do her best to help this little yellow house. So the little old architect moved in and as the years passed, with gentle love and care, the little old architect restored the little yellow house. She rebuilt it brick by brick, gave it a better foundation, even designed a garden planting rose bushes around it, and painted it even brighter. For years the architect poured her love, heart and soul into the little yellow house, and as she did the sun would shine brighter and brighter on and through the little house. When the wind blew through it, it felt like the hand of God reviving and breathing life into the little yellow house. The birds chirped outside it , the grass was finally green, the roses were blooming and all seemed perfect.

The little yellow house stood tall in the green pasture now. With pride and resilient as ever, she stood stronger. Her broken foundation was restored, her walls were complete and her emptiness was now filled with love and care from her little old architect. Until one day the little old architect started packing her belongings. It was time to let the little yellow house be on its own and find a new tenant that would love her. The little old architect was tired and had given her life to caring for broken houses; she needed rest. When the little old architect left, the days grew gloomier and gloomier. The flowers withered and bushes died. Darkness loomed and shadows of grey and red penetrated the windows. The trees and moutains that surrounded the pasture seemed to grow taller and cave in. At times it seemed that the pasture would just swallow that little yellow house.

Soon enough there were wanderers in and out of the little house. One after another came and went. There were those that seemed to care for house but didn’t put in the time to be with her, to rebuild the lonely house. Then those that only wanted to use the house for the moment and leave her in worse conditions than they had obtained her in. Once the years passed the little yellow house remember her little old architect and how much care she gave the little yellow house. Remembering how to be cared for the little yellow house started choosing who to shelter carefully. Only those that knew how to rebuild her were allowed to enter. Bit by bit the little yellow house became stronger again. Little by little she was brighter again and the hand of God was evident.

Shortly a wanderer came with tools and saw the little yellow house. The wanderer started laying a foundation right next to her. Soon there was a little blue house next to the little yellow house and everything was different. The wanderer was gone and now it was just the two little houses. The little yellow house felt something that she never felt before, it brought more than hope, it brought a future, it brought fate, and it brought depth. No longer was this little yellow house just a thing, now it was something. Now they were something, they were a unit; they were a unit together. They were a “they.” Although the little yellow house was empty, the little yellow house shined bright next to the little blue house. For years they stood next to each other, tall, proud, bright. Every year as they stood proudly together, the little blue house, seemed to get taller and taller.

Now something strange started happening, the little yellow house started dimming, but the sun was still out, the birds were still chirping, the flowers were still blooming, the grass was still green, but a shadow was casting. Years went by, and the little blue house somehow got taller, and the little yellow house got smaller and smaller. During this time, the wonder came back with her tools and moved in to the tall blue house. While she was inside the house, the tall blue house started getting darker and darker, wider and wider. So the little yellow house started to feel smaller and smaller. With so much sadness the little yellow house hoped that it could go back to being a unit with the little blue house, but the little blue house was no longer there. Now all that was covering the pasture for as far as the little yellow house could feel was a dark big building and the only space left to fill the pasture was the space that the little yellow house was on.

One morning the wonder opened all the windows in the dark building and let the light shine through onto the little yellow house. The wind blew through with force like a wind tunnel. The cobwebs that had covered the windows flew away and blew the dust off the drapes. The wind blew life into the little yellow house once again. Light and warmth felt like the creator had stepped in and saved the little yellow house from being swallowed again. This day was special, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. The wanderer climbed down with her shears and came over to the bushes that surrounded the little yellow house. One by one the wanderer cut each bush down and burned them. Once she was done with the garden the wanderer entered the little yellow house and room by room, with a sledge hammer started demolishing the little yellow house column, bricks and roof torn down. Soon there was nothing left of the little yellow house just the memories it left with each wanderer, each architect, and even the little blue house that somehow still existed inside the big dark building her demolishing creator had turned her into.