The trim around the outside of the house faded first.
It hadn’t been that bad, really. Everything blended together from the sun so the siding and the trim melded into a bland, mushy, oatmeal beige.
The edges of the trim continued the trend, color fleeing from the pieces, leaving the exposed wood.
They should have known something was wrong when the living room blinds quit operating properly. The strings had bound up, some had broken, and they could no longer be opened. Rather than doing repairs or purchasing a replacement, they ignored the issue, leaving the room without daylight.
They should have been aware that they weren’t keeping up with the maintenance. But both of them were focused on other things. Preoccupied.
There were work deadlines to meet and promotions to land and baseball games and science projects. Their lives were hijacked because no one else would care about their schedules or their lives or their home. They had to make their life together a priority – the priority. But they didn’t.
Inoperable blinds led to cobwebs behind doorways, shoe-scuffed walls, burned-out lightbulbs that were never replaced, and once-vibrant flowers wilting and dying in the yard. The front door warped, swelling from the winter rain and persistent beating of the sun, so they had to enter and exit through the garage. Weeds overtook the grass, grew through the cracks in the driveway, and sprung from the rain gutters above the front windows.
When the wind blew hard, pieces of the trim broke even further, continuing to disintegrate until they broke off and cluttered the ground, leaving areas on the side of the house with old wood and spots of primer left in their place. The stucco on the back of the house cracked and crumbled, losing its texture along with its color.
It used to be beautiful. Simple but envious in its simplicity and warmth. A sleet grey exterior with the meticulously chosen shade of white trim. Not too bright and not too close in hue. Perfect for them.
The sun continued to beat on the house, determined to break everything about it. The wood became brittle. Someone could touch it with their finger and it would collapse into a misshapen finger-sized hole. Hollow. Empty.
Shingles shifted and fell from the roof. Siding softened and rotted. Water damaged the walls and floors as mold and mildew grew in the unattended spaces. It was particularly noticeable around the chimney – the part meant to keep the household warm and cozy.
From a combination of unkindness, poor decisions, and neglect, the entire structure was in disrepair. Jagged. Frayed. Maybe even irreparable.
They thought they were keeping their private life between themselves, but the house didn’t make that distinction or agree to the deal. And the house wasn’t subtle.