Our family home had its closing last week…
I was born in 1965 –
When a young man at last had the means.
His eldest son was the “rod man”
While he surveyed my foundation.
So, I was brought into existence
As a place for his family of five.
For two decades I sheltered them,
And the man and his wife
For three decades more.
They called me, “home.”
It made me happy to be called, “home.”
I’ve lost track of the gatherings, the parties,
The practices, the games, the friends,
The laughter and the tears –
All protected by my strong walls.
I stood firm for the man’s loved ones,
Even as they left “home” and I became crowded with stuff.
For the man’s wife was a hoarder.
My floors became a tortuous path
Between piles of papers and clothing
And boxes and buried furniture.
Things replaced the children and their children –
My children too!
As the years took their toll.
When at last the brothers cleared out most of the things,
I heaved a sigh of relief.
I felt a great weight lifted from my shoulders.
My lungs could breathe again.
I straightened my back,
Getting ready for whatever might happen next.
The realtors said I had “good bones.”
The old “rod man” said a new family would love me.
A kind lady held some “estate sales.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant
Until another man found me,
A carpenter by trade,
Also, with three children and a loving wife.
Maybe he will heal my cracking ceilings,
Peeling windows, leaking tiles…
Tend to my decades of neglect.
I almost gave my life for my first family
And I would gladly do so again.
But the new little girl wants the room
where the brothers once slept,
And her brother wants to play drums in the game room,
While her dad wants the basement for a workshop.
His wife looks forward to family gatherings,
And parties and practices and games
And friends and laughter and tears.
It’s a new beginning:
There is more life to live!
So, I will love the newcomers
As I loved my first family.
But I will never forget those who first called me, “home.”
MurrayWorks 