Aisthesis      Volume 16,  2025103

Impermanence

by Sedona Skenderian

 It sits on top of a hill. Once a dream was shared 
by two, a sketch was planned on a paper napkin 
taken from the café down the street. Among a bucket 
list of countries to visit and doodles of landscapes 
that one day aspired to become paintings, there was 
a sketch of a house. Rooms tailored to their dreams. 
A kitchen where they would cook dinner every 
night. A hallway where she could hang her artwork. 
A large front yard where their future children could 
play. !en suddenly it was reality. Its creators chose 
the spot speci"cally. A place where they met as 
teenagers. When they "rst saw each other, a warm 
summer wind blew that seemed to push them closer 
together. !is became where they spent most of 
their time sitting in the long grass eating sun-melted 
chocolates and looking out over the town that rested 
below. !is was the place where they could let their 
walls collapse. Now they could see the same view 
from their living room. !e house watched them 
standing in front of it, their prideful faces re#ecting 
o$ the window's glass like an image re#ected o$ an 
eye.
 For the house to be created, sacri"ces had to be 
made. Large machines, ripping grass, moving dirt, 
and cutting down trees. By the time the destruction 
was over, the top of the hill lay #at, the dirt on which 
the couple used to lounge was carted away in one of 
the trucks, never to be seen by the hill again. Cement 
was poured (initials carved into them secretly), 
walls were li%ed, and the roof was a hat placed on 
top to cover the house's head. Veins of electricity 
and plumbing were installed, and the construction 
was over just like that. !e crew of construction 
workers packed up their stu$ and le%. All that 
remained was an empty house, a desecrated hill, 
and a young couple standing before it, seeing all the 
potential in the world. It was not long before layers 
of pastel colors dressed the walls and re-upholstered 
furniture "lled the belly of the house. No space 
was le% alone. Pictures "lled the hallways, utensils 
crowded the drawers, and sounds dri%ed through 

the halls: whether it be talking, music, or laughing. 
!e newness of the house was a thrill, an inspiration. 
!is was when the house’s newly polished #oors still 
sparkled, and the windows opened with ease. Tree 
saplings were planted, and #owers found homes near 
the front porch. !e grass regrew, and a new kind of 
life, one that was well-manicured, returned upon the 
hill. !e couple could feel it like the pulsing thrum of 
a heartbeat resounding through the house; this was 
a new beginning. !ey talked in whispers at night 
about their plans—how they would one day advance 
their careers and save up enough money to travel the 
world.
 It was not long before two voices turned to three, 
and three into four. !e house extensions were 
added, and travel funds were depleted. New rooms 
to be "lled with the happiness of toys, the sound of 
bedtime stories at night, #ashlights under the covers, 
and lullabies when other attempts at sleeping couldn’t 
be found. Shaky family portraits were drawn on the 
wall with every writing utensil that could be thought 
of, sometimes in plain sight where they were washed 
o$ immediately. At other times it was in secret 
corners or behind furniture where no one could "nd 
it. Soccer shoes, small bikes, the dragging of chairs 
to the living room to make forts, and the uncut nails 
of dogs scraped the #oor leaving permanent marks. 
!e #oors were still bathed and continued to shine 
despite the damage. Outside a fence was built which 
kept numerous amounts of toys from spilling out, 
encapsulating the house in its world. Despite the 
chaos, the house’s shutters seemed to smile with the 
joy that "lled it within.
 When the children were put to bed at night, the 
couple would sit in the living room. !ey had placed 
a couch in the exact spot where they used to picnic—
or so they believed that it was the exact spot—and 
would talk for hours until they went to bed. She 
would say, “I wish I had more time for painting.” And 
he would reply, “I wish I had less time at work.” Yet 
both would still think, But I am content with the life 
I’ve built.



Impermanence

Aisthesis      Volume 16,  2025104

Even a%er the couple went to bed and no one was 
awake, the house was never quiet. !e so% sounds 
of snoring "lled the rooms, the tick of the clock in 
the living room, and the trickle of water from the 
automatic dog feeder never le% the space silent. If 
one was quiet enough, they could hear the house 
breathing.
 !e once-paper white doorframes had been 
marked with lines labeled with names and ages. 
Over the years they progressively worked their way 
up the doorframe until one day, they stopped. !e 
toys slowly disappeared, turning into computers, 
phones, and clothes. !e walls never saw writing on 
them again. !e house was once again clean. Not 
as clean as when it was "rst moved in, but cleaner, 
nonetheless. !e noises lessened, and more doors 
were closed. Music still played and people still 
laughed, but the sound was mu&ed by the walls. !e 
couple—who were no longer young—sat downstairs 
on their couch less and less. Both worked more now. 
!ey walked about the house with tired eyes and 
aching backs.
 !e number of people dwindled from four to 
three, then from three to two. And then it was as 
it originally had been, the couple and the house. 
!ough much had changed. !e #oors were clouded 
with dirt that never seemed to resist the once-
persistent washing. !e #oorboards creaked as one 
walked on them, just as the couple’s joints creaked 
when they went to sit down. !e door hinges squealed 
when opened or closed. !e couple's backs were 
warped as was the roof from the rain and snow that 
it had experienced over the years. !e two hobbled 
throughout the house. !ey no longer le% very o%en. 
!ey sat on the couch watching TV together, yet they 
were miles apart.
 !e children came back every so o%en to visit. 
!ey would bring other people, friends, girlfriends, 
husbands, and children. During these times, spirits 
ran high. !e faded colors of the wall glowed once 
more, and the space was "lled with chatter and 
noise. !e couple stood up a little straighter and 
they smiled a little more. !e #oorboard squeaks 
were more like cries of joy. !ese times were brief. 
Guests stayed no longer than a couple of hours. !ey 
would leave, and the sun would set. !e house would 
be a little emptier, with both people and items that 
the kids had forgotten to take with them when they 
moved out. It was as if the tide had receded, taking 

away all the pretty shells that it had brought with it.
It was only a%er these visits that the couple would 
talk, their future becoming something of the past. 
She would say, “We needed to work more, but we 
wanted to travel.” 
 He would reply, “We were fools. !ere was no 
time for that.”
 “We have time now.”
 “Not enough.”
 !en one day it all ended. !e woman was in the 
kitchen washing the dishes when she suddenly froze. 
She clutched her heart and collapsed. It was a slow 
and painful descent, every second taking a thousand 
years to pass. !e house groaned as a strong wind 
blew over it. !e woman lay on the #oor, no longer 
moving or breathing. It was not until the man came 
downstairs to watch the television that he found her 
on the #oor. !e sink was le% running, and tears 
over#owed from the basin onto the #oor. It le% a 
puddle around the woman that wet her clothes and 
hair. !e man bent down to hold her as fast as his 
bad limbs would allow it. His scream would be the 
loudest sound that the house would ever hear. An 
ambulance came and took the two away. For the "rst 
time, the house was alone.
 It sat atop the hill, waiting, watching. Dust 
collected on the surfaces, food molded in the fridge, 
and cobwebs grew in the corners. A few weeks 
passed and people entered the house again. It was 
the couple’s children who were now much older than 
their parents were when the house was built. As 
they walked around the house, their footsteps were 
the only thing that could be heard. !ey solemnly 
marked things with sticky notes, blue for one child, 
and red for another. !en, a day later the movers 
came in taking furniture away one by one and 
loading it into their truck. !e house was hollowed 
out, with nothing but memories in the form of dents 
in the wall and the secret crayon pictures that were 
revealed a%er the furniture was moved.
 Yet, the house still sat, awaiting the return of 
its family. Weeks, months, then years passed. !e 
windows grew dusty, then broken. People threw 
rocks at the windows, delighted at the sound of 
shattering glass and breaking spirit. !ey stood at 
the front door, daring each other to step into the 
mouth and try to "nd the spirit that supposedly 
lived in the house. !ey spray painted the walls with 
their names, climbed up the stairs into the attic, told 



Impermanence

Aisthesis      Volume 16,  2025105

creepy stories, and ran away when the house let out a 
mournful cry as a gust of wind blew over it. It could 
not stand any longer.
 Eventually, the roof collapsed, and animals came 
in and made it their home, leaving it messy. Plants 
grew into the gutters, vines climbed up the walls. !e 
front yard became a wild jungle of trees, o$spring of 
those that the couple had planted many years ago. 
!e walls eventually crumbled and collapsed, and 
#oors rotted. !e plants reclaimed what was once 
theirs. All that one might see if they walked up that 
hill was the skeleton of a dream. However, when the 
wind blew just right and the leaves that settled on 
the foundation were disturbed in just the right place, 
two initials could be seen carved into the concrete, in 
the exact spot where a young couple used to picnic a 
very long time ago.