The House on Main Street

Adele Beront—First Prize, Glimmerglass Festival Youth Writing Competition
Grade 7, Cherry Valley-Springfield Central School

I live in a house. No, not just a house. A home. Two stories collide in a journey of peace, anger, love, hate, fear, bravery, discovery. My life is ordinary but for me I’m in a battle between my brain and my heart. My brain says “Don’t! Don’t!” and my heart says “Do! Do!” I listened to my brain for so, so long. Now I realize I was miserable. I listen to my heart and my home now and that I will do forever.

I live in a house. No, not just a house. A home. A home that’s heart beats and walls breathe in sync with the women who live with it. It’s skin blue and green and bones of brick. It lives next to the ghost of Ripley Hall who tragically perished in fire. An old brick wall, once a stable, stands crumbling but tall. As windows and doors open, so do hearts once cold now warm and the scent of spring.

I live in a house. No, not just a house. A home. Filled with warmth of two people who sleep in the beds it holds. Filled with the warmth of the man who visits every day. Filled with the warmth of people who love. Sometimes not filled with food, but filled with spirit. Filled with the warmth of relationships broken and repaired to be stronger.

I live in a house. No, not just a house. A home. A home not always inhabited by me and my mother. This is my story to tell. The story of how I lost my old house but also the story of how I found my home. Although I was happy I had lost my house, our landlord had sold it. I was living in tents in the yard of my parents’ friends. After that we were in my grandparents’ basement. For a long while my mother was scared and stressed. A young child, a mother, and no house to call home.

I live in a house. No, not just a house. A home. My home. Loved by me. Lived in by me. Paint might be peeling, walls may be covered in murals, songs have been sung, the world is changing rapidly, new is now old, old is now new, people have grown but not left, and love thrives. My life, my heart, my weird obsessions live in the best house a confused girl could ever ask for. Life may be rough but my brick house stands tall. My home stands with me. I stand with my home. I live in a house. No, not just a house. A home.