Memory Walls

Road trip across state lines
back in time
to a city
to a house
to a home
hoping to refresh aging memories

Hoping the walls still hold
aromas of first-time recipes
laughter of children
reverberations of cello practices
echoes of late night murmurings
and remembrances of
kitchen table coffee moments

I suppose it was ugly even then
sitting back against the alley
cement slab floors
unfinished shower stall
irregular walls and bad lighting
a handyman’s delight
and I was no handyman
not then
but it was cheap
and cheap was all we could afford

Strawberry beds beside the front porch
a sticky, dripping Black Walnut tree in front
Autumn leaves piled high for diving
bedroom walls riddled with illicit dart holes
and a twenty-pane glass window
to let the morning light onto the kitchen table
where all the important work was done

Home to love and puppies
to homemade bunk beds
Ride-a-Raddit and Big Green Machine
and to dreams and plans
yet untrammeled by time
or fate
or karma

I park on the street
where I used to park
no need I see
to knock on the door
the Black Walnut
the chain link fence remain
but the house is gone
replaced by a duplex
income property
all that is left

I wonder what becomes of memories
when walls are torn down
am I now the the fading repository
the sole keeper

And what of them
when I am gone

Marv Himmel
March 17, 2015 ©

2 thoughts on “Memory Walls”

  1. I remember. VW camper van or little honda civic or a motorcycle parked out front. Long sidewalk to the front door. White siding with green trim. Big scary dog and football players next door, flour game all over the kitchen floor, Home Made Yogurt, Friday night “Creature Feature” with bags of Doritos, Donny and Marie, tiny bedroom, the bicentennial, walking to school, lovely lady in the room upfront that visited sometimes. Good times. Love this.

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