An old colonial house. Ours. Cleaned, painted, polished, scrubbed and repaired. An object on display, a star on stage, ready for the public. Ready to be someone else's home.
We wait, out of sight and out of hearing. What do they think, these lookers, these pokers and prodders? Will someone see its charm as we did 29 years ago? An old lady with a few idiosyncrasies. The sloping hallway, the creak in the dining room floor, the leak above the side door when there is a drenching rain? Will the new family be forgiving and adjust to the old lady's habits and manners? Another sweater when winds blow through loose windows, a pot under the leak. This old lady has so much else to offer.
From a bedroom window, rolling fairways and fastidious greens on the golf course. Lilacs and roses on warm breezes; the maple, a canopy of gold in autumn and the envy of Midas; the transformation of the land with fresh snow. Birds, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, chipmunks, possums. Residents and visitors, including the occasional deer and wild turkey.
The walls will soon hear new stories and absorb new memories. Will they echo with happy celebrations, crowded with children, grandchildren and friends? And, when it is time for the owners to move on, will they look back, as I am, and wonder what has happened to the years?
this morning the sun
glowing in the east-
later… the west
Haibun Today, April 18, 2008