Without Foundation

Grandma and Grandpa loved the house. They built it in the ‘60s with much scrimping and saving. All they cared about was that it had sound foundations. And nice floors. “Nice floors give a house an air of grandeur!” They picked out the tiles one by one. Sparse was the furniture and even sparser the decorations. A lemon tree in the yard. Climbing vines to hide the water heater. A table with four chairs. The others can sit on the floor. Hot summers with blood-sucking mosquitos. The need for shelter. The house that will shelter the insecurities of the past. Security a plea since childhood. The sound foundations of memory. The terrifying power of evolution. All it takes is a glance, a look at the land. A bulldozer and nothing is left.