“There it is!” she cried
rushing forward and pointing
in childish delight
at the faded green farmhouse
abandoned amid weeds and rusting farm gear
no glass remaining
in windows that greeted every morning
for over 100 years
roof near gone
sunken and missing shingles
still struggling to save the house
from the harshness of this tornado alley outpost
to the very end
porch crumbled
having been delighted to serve
the happy stepping
the home at end of a hard day trudging
the Saturday night dancing feet
of so many years
so many children
and grandchildren
seen now on glass negatives
of another time.
In that moment
I realize
my relationship to the house
isn’t just my family
my heritage in dimensions unseen
it is me
windows now requiring bifocals
roof white and thinner every year
porch wobbly and prone to crumbling
from all the happy dancing
childbearing
miles walking
a few of them running
In time
I’ll be
only an image on glass.
Sharon, you paint a picture so beautifully with words. It leaves me with a gut reaction of nostalgia. I can see those relatives living their everyday life. It is a wonderful gift to leave for your heritage. You are getting really, really good at this. You need to get the right people to see your work. It is elegant and downhome at the same time. It should be published.