Nothing to Something Anonymous

When I was nine, my parents purchased a seemingly unspectacular piece of land. Eight years ago it was just mud and brick surrounded by a boundary wall. Today, it’s my home. Every weekend my father, an impassioned civil engineer, would drag me to the site to watch my future house rise from nothing. What seemed like a monotonous task at first soon became a beloved hobby. I began going to the building site more and more frequently.

What altered my behavior? It was the view in front of me. The hole in the ground was now two floors high but what really attracted me was what was inside. As I walked through the brick and concrete, I saw a certain beauty amidst the dust. The layout was immaculately symmetric. There were no irregularities or discrepancies. Everything was laid out with geometric precision. From the equal distance between my sisters and my beds to the carefully planned windows at eye-level, everything was perfect. My parents didn’t hire an architect and they didn’t leave the construction of their house in the hands of strangers. They used logic and analytical skills to perfect every inch of their dream home. It was a strange feeling but I was smitten. I spent hours with my father helping him locate the exact positions for...