Chapter 6 - THE HOUSE WITH THE BLUE FRONT DOOR
Clara showed me the house on a Saturday morning.
It stood on a quiet street outside Charlottesville.
Small.
White siding.
Blue front door.
A porch with two rocking chairs.
“This was supposed to be ours,” she said.
I looked at her.
“You bought it?”
She nodded.
“Before Daniel got sick.”
The house had been empty for almost two years.
Clara couldn't bring herself to sell it.
But she couldn't live there either.
We walked through the rooms.
The kitchen smelled of dust.
The walls were bare.
Sunlight fell across the hardwood floors.
Clara stood in the doorway of a small bedroom.
“We wanted kids.”
I said nothing.
She looked at the empty room.
“Daniel wanted two.”
Her voice broke.
“A boy and a girl.”
I swallowed.
Clara wiped her eyes.
“I don't even know why I keep paying the mortgage.”
I looked around.
“Because part of you still sees the life you planned.”
She nodded.
I stepped closer.
“But maybe the house doesn't have to stay frozen in that life.”
She looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
I smiled.
“You're a designer.”
She laughed faintly.
“So?”
“So design something.”
She looked around.
“For who?”
May you like
I held her gaze.
“For yourself.”
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