as i headed back to NYC from boston, on the first bus i could catch two tuesdays ago, many of the things i saw along the way were colored by my expectations of what awaited me that evening. there was one sight in particular that seemed especially apt.

since moving to boston, i'd made this trip back to NYC to see my family many times. each time, i'd take note of this one little house next to the highway, a house surrounded by vast empty lots, a house that, though wearied, stood strong.

the simple narrative i spun for myself is one that still seems quite likely. the owner of this house was, no doubt, the last hold-out against some great power. the surrounding empty lots were once occupied by similar single-family houses, but then the highway grew up around them and one by one, two by three, four, then more and more, these houses were bought out by some developer or other grossly monied menace, to be made faceless, listless. heartless. this one home however, stood fast.

i knew that if i looked out the window at just the right time and the right stretch of road, there it would be, a bulwark of the family unit... or at least, of something sincere. i'd always wanted to set something there, making the house the setting for for either a film or comic, make it a main character's base of operations, his or her HQ. although i romanticize the story of this little house now, in light of what happened that week, it seemed to me that against all manner of ill, the house would stand forever. although it came to show the wear and tear of years, still it stood, always fighting the good fight. until wednesday november 3rd, 2009, when i looked for it again and it was gone.

more so even than that particular afternoon's more cliched roadside sights, what with the pm's sistine-ceiling-esque shafts-of-sunlight coming through cracks of clouds, i took the loss of this house as sign. that house fought the good fight for as long as it could. my mother did the same.

in memory of Friedes Valbuena.
September 21, 1945 - November 4th, 2009.