in her house

 

 

 

 

 

“Vague memories hang about the mind like cobwebs”

~ George Eliot

 

 

 

 

 

 

drive in

 

 

 

 

summer nights
we’d pile in the back of dad’s station wagon
in our pajamas
equipped with blankets, pillows and paper bags full of junk food
and fall asleep halfway through the feature

 

 

 

 

 

 

giving way

 

 

 

 

 

“How long before the eaves gave way
to the sky, or the bathroom floor
was jack-hammered to bone,
while the trees outside were left
to redirect the wind?

How quickly the den must have become more kitchen
and bedrooms lost their privacy. I see the books
we’d packed up and moved years ago
under a pile of fresh rubble, still sending off dust—

titles stunned to a babble
in gold leaf.”

~ Kristen Henderson

 

 

 

 

 

 

fishing buds

 

 

 

 

 

Joe and his pal are regulars on Comet Pond
although they have fished many lakes and ponds across New England
this is home for them
on this day they greeting me with happy faces
as Joe had just caught the biggest trout of the day
often the best part of exploring small towns and backroads
is the people (and animal friends) I meet along the way

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the way home

 

 

 

 

 

“But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.”

 

 

~ Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping