All Gone House

There is nothing here that would matter to anyone else, this space is empty; for rent or lent or sale.

It once housed chaotic joy in full battle mode- crayon on the walls, mud on the floors, and spaghetti sauce on the ceiling.

Memories echo- Daddy’s home smelling like smoke and frustration. Dinner at five. Wash those hands and don’t pull your sister’s hair.

Barking laughter and nearly terrified squeals bounced down the hall
Hushed cries and petty pouts, though all is forgiven by story time.

Hugs to squirming wet bodies, kisses to sleepy eyes
Worn out kids piled on one bed, snuggled like puppies.

After they are out like lights, then it was our time-
Dances in the kitchen during dishes, kisses during the news.

Loving between water fetching and nightmare patrol
The alarm interrupting the first quiet moments of my day.

Quick breakfasts, brown bag lunches, and snuggles.
“I love you more than flowers, Mommy.”

Now I walk through the peeling rooms
And touch the notches that marked their growth.

Soon my time here is done and they are calling from the door.
I grab my last box of memories and trudge through the emotions housed here.

On the porch I hug my very tall children and as we walk down the path
I touch the leaves of the tree you planted when we first moved in.

I smell the same breeze that still tugs my hair
And smile, as I feel you say your goodbye.