sad family memory |
I walk in my shell of a home, empty since you left. The kitchen is much the same; Pots and pans cabinets and cupboards. Food in the fridge, leftover dinner for one. The kitty and puppy sit in the hallway tired after playing the day away. The cork board is still crooked and filled with pictures of you. Memories and notes, and the drawings and coloring we sat together to do. My bedroom and bathroom are in the same sane crazed order I like to keep. Bed not made, but clothes in precision order in the closet. Everything on my bathroom sink lined up like soldiers on parade. Your room is as the day you left, just in case you suddenly sneak in for a nap. your dolls and stuffed animals sit upon shelves, tears behind plastic button eyes. Your overfilled toy box beckons your hands to toss and dump and play. They want you home today. I wander into the living room, ready to cry, life without you makes me sure my heart has started to die. I sit in my reading chair, to leaf through a magazine or read a book; make the evening go away so I can sleep and try not to think. My idle eye sees the untidy stacks on the coffee table and end table too. Stacks of pictures and papers waiting to clip and put in a scrapbook for you. I casually peer and peak and probe. Pictures and ticket stubs movie theatre memories, and popcorn light and sun and love and fun. Memories, maybe a thousand or more. Next time I will stop here and look at these printed memories we shared when first I open my front door. |