The Home

“Look, just as long as we’re together, things will be fine,” Jessica said, nibbling on my neck.

“But…what about the big house we can’t afford?” I said.

“This cabin is good enough.” Jessica took a few steps to a creak on the floor. “For now.”

We both laughed hard.

I couldn’t believe Jessica was this cool with not getting the house she wanted. I felt like a loser because she thought I couldn’t afford it.

We’d been couch surfing the majority of our relationship. This whole coronavirus has left us homeless. We live off the good graces of other people. That is until I received this letter in the mail.

It was from a man I’d never met: my grandfather. He left me an old log cabin in Carolina. It wasn’t the newest cabin, but it was a place to call home. To get our mind off our depression, we’d drive through the westside, where the rich folks live to look at homes and picture our life inside one.

We’d dream of affording a home in the hills one day. As we traveled through the hills, Jessica’s eyes welled with tears. “That home.” She pointed. “It’s so beautiful.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “It’s yours.”

Jessica raised her head. “What?”

“The house. It’s yours. Granddad left me ten million dollars.”

Jessica’s mouth fell open, not closing. She crawled across the car to sit on my lap. “I love you. I love you. I love you. But wait?” Jessica said.


“A house isn’t a home without a kid,” Jessica said, biting her bottom lip.



“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

(Dusting off Dreams)

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