On cracked foundations and fallen kings

a zipper house story

I’ve been corrected, dear reader!

My Nanny’s house has only been there for 48 years!

I had suggested that it had been there my entire life.

This was not entirely true.

The foundation for that house was poured on a hot August day back in ‘77. It was so hot that they couldn’t cool the concrete quickly enough and the foundation was filled with cracks.

The house showed up on the back of a truck the next day.

It’s a zipper house! Nanny would brag.

I spent years of my life looking for that damn zipper. It was probably hidden under the swirling snowmen that danced around on her stippled ceiling.

Another fun fact about that house? The day before the house showed up?

Well, that was the day that my sister was born.

And that?

That was a great day.

And as my Nanny took her spot as ‘the lady’ in the house on the hill, The King took his last bow on his water-filled throne.

Oh what a time it was!

Though I was alive at the time I have no recollection of that damn zipper.

Maybe she’s the zipper, keeping the family’s pants up.

I’m concerned, dear reader. Will the family now walk around with our flies down and our peckers hanging out?

That would be

Unfortunate.