Nana's House

I recently took a trip Down East with family.  This post was from more than a year ago.  A picture drawn from strong childhood memories.  I was watering plants in the backyard yesterday, including a cutting from the lilac tree in front of the house (to the right outside this picture)

I hope you enjoy the picture and poem.

Pembroke

A few half buried fieldstones are all that remain

The house is gone

The Barn and Shed…

Gone

Gone. Not forgotten

I see Nana’s house

In abandoned farmhouses 

In bowed barns

In my dreams

I remember walking up the dirt road from one adventure or another

Taking the short cut up the hill toward the house

Avoiding the old well (Not really – Sorry Mom)

The tall grass tickling my hands

was laced with animal trails

At the top of the hill

The horses were shuffling in their stalls

Anxious to get out

The shed

A large barn connecting the barn to the kitchen

A magical place to me

Could that have been Santa’s sled?

Why one barn was “the barn”

The other the “shed”

I don’t know – it just was

The geese tap at the low kitchen windows

Hoping for some of our breakfast

Grampie looks up from his coffee

Shaking his head “No” at the geese

Morning ritual complete

The geese move on

The memory remains

I wasn’t yet six and he was gone

I prefer this memory

To those from the nursing home

Back to Pembroke, Masonic Lane

Dining Room

Sloping floors

Great for marbles and Matchbox cars

Enough room for seven story baseball card forts

As much fun to take down as to build

From kitchen to bedroom

Stairs narrow and steep

There was always a chill in the air upstairs

The only source of heat radiated from downstairs (or so I was told)

I’ve never gotten dressed and undressed indoors as quickly

Before or since

It was so quiet

You could hear yourself think

No T.V.

No Streetlights

Few cars

Lots of cats and dogs

Bald Eagles nesting by the river

The wind rattled the windows

Full of imperfections

Creating unique views and

Moonshadows on the wall

The house spoke in soft whispers and groans

As I drifted off to sleep

When my brother speaks

to his girls (Geese) and his pugs

I sometimes hear Nana’s voice.

The lilac in her dooryard has spread

To each of our homes

So has her hardy laugh

And her fierce spirit

The house is gone

So much more remains