This is Ours

This is Ours by Leah Outten

In a neighborhood lined with cookie cutter houses,
I turn onto a street,
Black pavement undefined by an official green sign.
It’s easy to drive right by without it’s name tag.
This is our house?
It’s still hard to believe,
Even with papers signed, money disappearing, and our things occupying space.

As I walk up to our new possession I glance at the tall structure,
Noticing the cream plastic horizonal lines,
The deep cobalt blue shutters,
It reminds me of my childhood home.
But this isn’t my parents’ home, this is ours.
This is ours?

The frogs peep in the pond nearby, welcoming us home.
The covered cold concrete slab porch begs for cushy chairs to sit and enjoy.
The withered brown plants plead for some color and love.
The prickly brown mat at our feet wants to Welcome you in.
Come on in.

Stepping on to the grey vinyl floor pretending to be tile (I can’t wait to it rip up),
The house greets you will smells of paint and wood.
How does a house 3 years old still smell so new?
The walls engulf you with chocolate milk,
Its cozy.

The light shining in the windows allows no need to reach for a switch.
Hues of blues and browns bring peace to my eyes at the end of the hall.
Sheer baby blue curtains soften the chocolate box,
Armless stripped chairs pretend to be a love seat,
A fire place for warmth and a TV for late night snuggles.
Our living room,
Its cozy.
The kitchen to the right is covered in caramel,
Ready for new meals and delicious smells,
Like brownies baking in the oven.

Three bedrooms are one too many right now.
A little girl’s room is splashed with cotton candy pink,
But who will occupy the other?
And when?
And what food color will inspire me then?
For now it’s home to our random cardboard clutter.

This is our home.
Ready for new memories.
Ready for new growth.
Ready for our own space.
This is ours and its quite cozy.