In life each one of us is building a home. Things we love, the activities we participate in, the people we surround ourselves with are the materials we use. We are always building, rebuilding, and repairing. It's something that none of us can completely control, even if we put all of our energy into it. People and animals come and go. Unexpected life events, good and bad, shape our buildings.
They fill our homes with love and build our foundations stronger.
Sometimes there is a person that you meet along the way that becomes more of a part of the building than anyone else. That person becomes so much a part of it that before you know it you are the same structure. Life events, people, animals all pass through and it effects you both equally.
You are the same structure.
You have the same roof.
You have the same walls.
You are one.
Then that person leaves.
The structure won't stand on it's own anymore.
It's not like it got split down the middle either.
A wall from this room, a piece of foundation here, the wiring from just the second floor.
The entire east wall and most of the kitchen.
So many fragments missing that the whole thing just collapses.
There is no patching or repairing, just piles of rubble.
It doesn't hold off the rain or the snow, there is no roof.
Cold winds freeze everything inside.
Life's good events are a fog and the bad ones are intolerable.
Anything that gets built up gets knocked down by even the weakest wind.
All the pieces scattered around.
An impossible puzzle.
And the builder knows that even if he tried it's only half there at best.
He knows it can't be rebuilt.
It can only ever be half a building.
And the motivation and passion for building anything fades.
The only thing left is the memory of the other half.
And a flicker of hope, always at great risk of being put out,
that the other half will come back again.