One day I’ll become an old house; my once bright paint will fade from time and splinter from seasons of sun and rain. Years of rebuilding will change me and I will no longer look the same. My foundation will need support from the stress of years past.
I hope to be a good old house. I hope others will find me inviting, I hope to see children play and hope to provide shelter. Under my roof I will kindle love for my wife and children. I will set out to remain constant even though the landscape may change. I will keep my lights on so that my loved ones can find their way home. I will weather whatever comes so that my love can rest her head.
I see that old house; seemingly alone, but not empty.