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 ©