Window Pane Promises

I've moved six times. 

But, I've never had anything new.

Each house, someone has loved before, or hated before.

I always feel like I'm intruding, never making each house my own.

I learned not to from a young age.

Each house had its quirks. 

One house, had only two bed rooms a tiny kitchen, and a tiny back yard.

It was a condo, complete with a best friend and a cat that we named "Gato."

The condo's came with a pool.

 And Kirsten was fearless; A year older than my sister and four years older than me.

She was a typical tomboy. Our age difference wasn't felt, we were all young.

I wonder what her perspective on me was.

Our next  house came with its own jungle. 

It was dirt and weeds. It had stairs and a chandler right above it.

It was in a nice little cul-de-sac. 

It was right across from the park, again we made a friend.

His name, was Nate*. 

He lived diagonal from us. 

We would sit on each others porches and play Yu-Gi-Oh! cards.

He was nice to us; same age as me.

He's troubled now. Last I heard, he grows/sells/ and smokes weed.

I still see him once in awhile, but I know he still remembers.

One house, had awkard windows that showed anyone walking upstairs,

we tried to cover it with trees and Chinese fold out walls.  

The house we are at now. Is the "quirkiest of all."

The previous owner died of old age. God be with him.

It was the first house we actually owned.

Our toilet and bathtub are pink, (we had to paint the walls pink to match.)

 The kitchen must be a million years old. Even though the house was built in the 30's/

Our heater didn't work in the middle of winter, and it makes me sneeze. 

The kitchen sink fell off. So, you have to be careful.

Sometimes, we would stick an orange on it to turn the water on.

Our back yard is a mess. The gates are shut with bungee cords. 

The plumbing doesn't always work. That sentence is an understatement. 

This was  the first house in awhile that made me feel hopeful. Hopeful that we could make it last,

through anything. 

We painted and fixed.

My wall is half blue and half violet. My name is sloppily written in white as if to claim my territory.

Now, once again, we are moving. 

I hope it is a new house. We are simply renting this time.

There is something about walking into a new house, even if it is just being shown to you.

It's like you could write your own story.

The first everything.

It makes me feel like I can be anything.

It makes me feel like I can have a perfect "Barbie" life.

 I've always been one for glamour.

In my house, when we first were being showed the house,

there was this green trim around the blinds.

We said we would get rid of that.

But now I realize, we will never get to do that.

It's all just window pane promises. 

Things you hoped for yourself; for your family. It's just all kinda gone.

 Until you walk into your next house. House number 7.

And then you can feel all the hope and possibility deep down all the way into your soul.

You'll feel it until one day you realize that once again, you will have to pack up and jump ship.

Who knows? Maybe number seven will be lucky.