It’s me again, 8908. Wanted to update myself. After I lost my ass and my top on August 7th, everything else turned to shit. When you’re as old as I am, and a mirror is finally put in front of you, you get a major shock!!
The heavy equipment operators never got the whole band-aid analogy. VERY, VERY slow tear off. They took my chimney, my dormers, my legs in one day, but they left my broken parts in a hole far too long. They (the workers) never got the concept of the early bird catches the worm. My broken and damaged parts would lay bare until noon to one each day. Then they (workers) would run away like little sissy girls by four.
Two weeks ago, my parts had finally been hauled away. My limbs, what were left, were still not removed. I’m done talking about it. I’m gone now. My history is done. My address will live one for many years. I will be 8908 long after my family is dead.
I didn’t mean to let them down. Tried to protect each and every one of them. Sometimes evil and circumstances just get in the way. I did nothing to deserve the death sentence. Didn’t even get my last meal.
Oh, hi. It’s Liz again. Trying, still, to figure out why I’m almost morbid about this whole thing. Why do I need to keep looking out the front door, then the back, then taking a break, then rinse and repeat. Maybe it’s the fact that I was relinquished and feel I’m always looking for things that don’t exist. Maybe it’s that my kids were deeply hurt by both 8904 and 8908. Maybe it’s that I was a fool to trust that the spouse of the next generation would try to make the marriage work, but instead set out to destroy my youngest and 8908. He succeeded in handing 8908 over to the executioners, but accidentally freed my baby.
Thank you, 8908.
Now, I’m going to start working on NOT going to the front door, then the back to peer over the yard of my next door neighbors to stare at 8908. I will get this. One minute, hour, day at a time, just like when I became a recovering smoker. The earth dug out where 8908 used to stand is way deeper than it ever stood before. I know to many it sounds funny, weird, or like I’m delusional, but I hope the land heals. I want 8908, Jr. to be a blessing to the young family who will eventually occupy it.
I want to let it go. I so want to let so very much go.
My Scarlet Letter 
the imagery used, and the emotion put into this are great, the fact that you speak of how lazy the construction workers are is a good thing. the last paragraph for the fist part has great feeling, a house does try to protect the people inside, though evil is a way of life sometimes.
for the second part giving a glimpse into what happened in the house, that takes strength, i am glad that your baby is now free, i know what chains can do to a person. lots of things happened in that house, some good some bad, but the memories will always be there, yes some good and some bad as well but with time and good people, plus the internal strength of an amazing women things will get better, yes take steps forward one moment at a time, your optimism for the new home, life and family that will come from the ashes is a good start