The House Where My Parents Live
Goodbye, the finality creates homesickness
In the primary breaking free heart
No smell of cologne of aura of presence
Is left in the house where my parents live.
When the last child leaves home the house
Becomes elderly. It has arthritis and alzheimers
It can be said, “There is too much wisdom
In this big house for just two people.”
At each glance parts of the house bring flashes
Wonderful visions filled with laughter in the memory
The memory of moments that build the house and home
No question that life runs in the halls and up the stairs.
Now, to visit is like bumping into an old friend
A person who reminds us of the “good ol’ days.”
A sort of uneasy comfort, never really wishing
Things are the way they were back then
But smiling at that possibility.