MOVING
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
