If I were to die and be reborn I would want to be a wall in a house, a beautiful white washed wall in the busiest area with family pictures hanging up and the little marks that show the height of the little girl that lives in there, marked in purple marker. I would like to be built across from a window so I could see the light from the sun sweeping away the dark night, the first few hesitant flakes of snow floating in the dim light of evening.  I would bear witness to the pain of the child as she cowers behind the couch, covering her ears from the sound of her mother’s crying. Her tears drip onto the wooden floor, leaving tiny drops that catch the light from the muted TV. I see her do this many nights. I would be a constant voyeur, from lovingly watching her dance to the theme songs of Saturday morning cartoons to blushing when she would sneak her boyfriend in past curfew and they would whisper sweet declarations of lust on the couch. Eventually she’ll leave me and although her mother and father still live in the house it feels empty. I want her to come back. If only I, a white wall, could speak. I wait wait wait. Until one day, she walks through the door as if she’s never left! I watch as she sits on that lusty couch and reveals her tiny child with tiny hands and tiny feet. Another life I might get to watch unfold before me… oh the joys of being a wall!


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