Writing 201

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8908 and Me – Part 1

Published August 7, 2014 by Liz Ault

Hi. My name is 8908. Houses don’t get names as often as cars and pets.

My people have been in several places – 8904, 8908 and 8900 from 1955 to present.

My back porch was knocked off today. My ass hurts. I also lost my right forearm (just the bricks, not blood vessels yet). I’ve been empty of humans for months now.

Many in my neighborhood think I’m foolish. My last mom is feeling so weird at seeing a family home of 60 years, and her generation of family for almost 20 years, get knocked down in bits and pieces. Why can’t they knock me down all at once? Sort of like life support – unplug me.

I will be replaced. Once I’m knocked down, I will be replaced with a “McMansion.” Replaced with an extra wide double car garage with a small front door next to it. That will be my new “front.”

My little city/town has been replacing the small homes with the McMansion’s for a few years now. My street is the last one without one of these. My life will be replaced with one. Sorry, I keep repeating myself.

The other thing is cost. Okay, I know I’m a cheap little shit house. I tried to serve my families well, but failed miserably. I have bad something – not Karma, but something. My value is way higher that what I was purchased for. My human lived there, but was crushed in spirit. She left her husband to get away from suffocation. The husband made the owner feel like all was well, but nothing was well. I changed hands and that signed my death sentence.


Hi, my name is Liz. I was screwed out of my home. But that home didn’t bring much joy. So, why am I so intrigued with the extremely slow progress with tearing it down? I prefer the bandage be pulled off quickly. I have some guilt because it was in the family so long, and I failed it. But I can’t keep my eyes off it. I live two houses down and go out the back door and the front to see the progress. Damn.

My kids don’t care about this family house. They know it caused pain. It caused them the most pain. It cost them their innocence. So why do I give a shit?? Why do I have so much trouble letting go?

8908 and Me – Part 2

This year isn’t over yet – I will let go.

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