If your house could keep only one memory after you were gone… which one would you want it to remember?
July 11, 2026 – 4:45 p.m.
Sitting outside in my white Savana van…
Listening to traffic sounding like small hisses.
The strokes of my pencil as I write.
It’s relaxing.
The stillness of your daily life…
It’s something I need more often.
“He sleeps so late.
He needs more rest.
He cries sporadically.
His emotions seem to be off under stress.”
“These blankets need to be washed more often.
The fresh scent will relax him.”
“Roberto…
You lying on me as your trusted mattress for over ten years.
I’ll miss and remember how often you’d talk out loud in the darkness late at night.
’Lord…
I am lost.
I hate the life I’ve misguidedly walked into.
May I have made possible irreversible decisions.’
You are hard on yourself…
And on your younger self.”
“I’ll miss how often you prayed…
And how you slowly began saying,
‘Thank you,’
more often.”
The lightless studio…
Once you’re gone…
Will miss you.
Have a great rest of your journey…
In the next life.
Night, night.
Coffee done.
Question
If a place that has quietly witnessed your life could speak, what do you think it would remember most about you?
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