We are the impact and the glue Capable more than we know To call this fixer upper home With each year, our color fades Slowly, our paint chips away But we will find the strength And the nerve it takes To repaint and repaint and repaint every day Let the years we're here be kind, be kind Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide Settle our bones like wood over time, over time Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine A little broken, a little new. Tears fell down her cheeks and she made no effort to wipe them away, needing to once again feel that pain. Every year, measure how tall And just like a work of art We'll tell our stories on these walls We will call this place our home The dirt in which our roots may grow Though the storms will push and pull We will call this place our home We'll tell our stories on these walls. Swallowing, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
The beginning piano chords began, the sounds of it filling the car and bringing tears to her eyes. Finding the song she had heard earlier and then purchased, which had led to her driving over to the house at 9:00 at night, she pressed play and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the headrest. Shaking her head, she picked up her phone and unlocked it.
She took a deep shaky breath and let it out, the pain and sadness she had felt earlier pushing its way once more to the surface. Scully sat in her car, the engine and lights shut off as she stared at the glowing lights of the house she had not lived in for over three years.