Saturday, August 1, 2015

The House Across the Street

As I opened my front door, I noticed that something was different.  The house across the street was gone.  I guess I must’ve blinked a hundred times.  I looked around and the rest of the street was the same. 

It wasn’t an empty lot with a driveway, either.  It was a wooded lot.  Am I crazy?  There was no one around to ask.

So I just got in my car and drove to work.  Should I call the police?  Nah, someone probably already did.  It’s odd that there were woods there.  If the house was somehow demolished during the night wouldn’t there be rubble?  Even if everything was cleared away wouldn’t there be an empty space?  How did all those trees pop up overnight?

At work, everyone laughed at me.  “Was there a pink elephant darting between the trees?”  After my second cup of coffee, I agreed with everyone.  I must have imagined it.  It must have been some trick my half asleep mind was playing. 

Still.  I couldn’t wait to get back home, after work.

Arriving home, I couldn’t believe it.  I mean, I believed it, but…but!  The house was back.  It looked just like it always did. 

At supper, I told hubby the story.  He said I must have dreamed it.  Maybe it was some kind of mind trick like déjà vu tricks the mind.  I didn’t know what to think, so I didn’t—think.

The next morning as I opened by front door, the house was gone again.  This time I took out my smart phone and took a picture.  “Hrmph!  This will show those nay sayers!” 

But my co-workers weren’t impressed.  They didn’t know what was there before the woods.  “Why didn’t you ask one of the people in the woods?” 

“Huh?”  I looked at the pictures and there were people in the woods!  I never noticed them.  They were walking around talking, or something.  Some of them had cameras.


Later when I showed the pictures to hubby, he thought I was pulling his leg.  “C’mon.  You didn’t take this picture here.  You took this somewhere else.  Is this an early April Fool’s Day joke?”

I didn’t know what was going on.  But since I didn’t sleep well that night, I came up with a plan.  I was going to get up early with hubby.  Then I’d show him the woods across the street where the house used to be.  But I couldn’t sleep at all.  I was too jazzed.  So I got up.  I looked out the window.  The house was across the street, as always.  Well, not “as always” but it was where it belonged. 

I made us a big breakfast.  I looked out the window, again.  The house was there.  Hubby got up and we ate breakfast.  I didn’t mention the house but I kept checking the window.  It was still there.
Hubby did say that he was glad the house across the street kept disappearing because it got me out of bed early enough to make breakfast.  “Wise guy.”

As Hubby kissed me goodbye a van pulled up in front of the house across the street and dropped off some people.  Another van drove up and dropped off some stuff—equipment, I guess. 

I watched (open mouth) as some men climbed up the roof and dropped a camouflaged tarp over the front of the house.  Then some of the other people carried trees and placed them all over the front yard.

Voila!  The house was gone and replaced with a wooded lot. 

I wasn’t going crazy.  But why were they doing it?

I walked over and asked. 

They were making a movie.  The homeowners were on vacation and wanted a movie made of how their parents had built their house, starting with chopping down the trees by hand.  It was going to be a surprise for their parents.


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