This is the house where we grew up.
A brand-new house
in a neighborhood
still becoming itself.
Fresh concrete curbs rounded and smooth
New school.
New friends.
New neighbors—
not Mema, not cousins anymore.
The smell of new wood and paint.
New furniture.
My new room.
Our new address rhymed,
and mom drilled it in my head
in case someone found me lost
in this new part of town
Foundations were poured around us,
Wooden frames kept sprouting up,
and we picked up scraps of drywall
to make hopscotches on the street.
Oh, my new baby sister!
The cute yellow room prepared for her arrival.
The bassinet.
She was real and she was in there.
Her precious face and soft hair.
Black-and-white TV in the kitchen
Color TV downstairs
Lying on the carpet
between the console speakers
To experience True Stereo
Spider plants hanging in the windows.
A magical terrarium on the coffee table.
The piano with the music holder
that buzzed with certain notes.
Countless home-made dinners
so delicious,
Except the broccoli for my sister.
Holidays
when both kitchen tables were full of family, laughter
and mostly good cheer
Christmases
when Mema spent the night,
and put handmade bows on each of her gifts
Nighttime thunderstorms
when I went in to my sister 's bed
so she wouldn’t be scared.
Eating just-picked vegetables from the backyard
that tasted like sunshine
The best barbecue—
meat cooked by Dad,
sauce made by Mom.
Throwing our dirty laundry
over the railing ,
so it landed in front of the laundry room.
The pool table in the basement,
“8 ball in the corner pocket",
and smashed fingers from “war”
The cool, cool basement in summer.
The roaring attic fan.
Climbing behind the air conditioner.
More than once for some reason.
It was loud.
Collecting seeds
from the four-o’clocks
along the side of the house.
Picking the “berries”
from the evergreen bushes
at the end of the driveway.
And bagworms.
Yuck.
Opening the small metal cover in the front yard
to see the water meter
and the rollie pollies.
Swinging on the swing set so high
the legs of the frame left the ground
The heaviest garage door
in the world.
Years passed.
Every house that holds a lifetime
also holds its storms,
and ours was no different.
Not every year was kind.
The house held it all
without choosing sides.
Eventually, and for various reasons,
we all moved out,
except Dad.
He continued
to go about his days as he always had,
comfortable in the house,
and the life he knew.
Then, getting ready to go dancing one night,
He fell and broke his leg.
He hadn't planned on moving.
But suddenly there were way too many stairs.
The house stood alone for a while,
seasons came and went,
the house sat suspended between
past and future...
It was time.
Time to clear out
all traces
of the lives we lived
in these rooms
And put the house back in order—
Mainly because it needed it,
But also because it deserved it.
Now here we are, the sale "going live".
And just like it was the beginning,
the only thing inside the house
is all that can be.
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