The demise and deconstruction of Hill Billy Mansion evokes many things simultaneously. Some how I feel the pain, labor, and unfulfilled hopes of the builders.
Hill Billy Mansion is coming apart quickly, with little effort for me armed with a drill.
But I know the hours it took to hew the flat lumber after the
trees were fell and drug. I know the effort of lifting all that material many feet off the ground.
So while First Light grew stronger for every screw I removed from Hill Billy Mansion, Hill Billy Mansion became weaker and less reliable for it.
I smile regarding the fact no one has to say, "Why dear, you were conceived in Hill Billy Mansion" while comparing it to "Why
honey, you were conceived in First Light On Narrow Pond".
Both are brash bold acts to consider, both have a certain flavor, a certain color.
As the sun sets on the roofless Mansion, I realize these two flavors are where I came from but belong to neither. And turn in the dusk to sleep half way below the earth.