(Houses and Hearts part 1 can be found here.)
And so the world dissolved in anger. Or exploded, perhaps is a better word. The house came crashing down and it was a house of cards after all, but the cards lay on the table, begging to be picked back up and built into a new shape, a sturdier one.
The first parting was sweet and sad. But sweetness contains hope and anger will have none of it.
The second parting was angry and loud, so loud, like the deafening silence after the roll of thunder.
Or perhaps anger embodies hope, refusing to let it go.
Or perhaps hope defies anger and clings, as the blank faces of the cards cling to the surface of the table, refusing to dissolve into the unforgiving air.
Or perhaps none of that is true, and anger and hope are merely two paths, one being the thorny path to righteousness, the other the broad, clear road to hell. But I will choose the third green path, the leaf-strewn path to fairy.
Because who can tell the two paths apart, with their loud thoughts and bright, shining lights? Not I, surely, who can’t even tell where anger ends and hope begins. And that is the space for fairy. The threshold between the worlds where one ends and the other begins, where lightning sears the edges of the dark clouds, and for an instant the sky is both light and dark. That is the place of fairy.
And so I begin to stack the cards. A box is waiting to receive them, waiting to be placed into a drawer. But they will not fit in the box unless they are ordered just so, and thus my job becomes not one of building but one of organizing, rearranging. It is a creation of sorts, and the end result is a stack of cards much studier than the house they used to be part of.
The question now that I must answer – that will take time in answering – is will the cards be placed in the drawer? Or will they sit in a little pile, waiting for my return home, and wonder if they can be shaped into something new, something better suited for their kind?