The New House
Memory fills a house like rainwater,
slowly seeping in thru the floors and walls,
puddling in the low spots, working its way throughout,
leaving marks behind as it recedes.
The old house was deeply stained
marked by memory - love -
the substance of our little family
having utterly penetrated the place.
Moments and milestones
parties, holidays, gatherings
friends, family, neighbors
gouged hardwoods, marked ceilings, scuffed walls
left behind as they recede,
filling, then marking, the place
with memory - and love.
The new house
with its clean walls and unmarked floors
concealing a structure void of memory,
empty
(perhaps we’ve made a mistake?).
Neighbors, friends and family trickle in
scuffs and scratches, unnoticed, as they recede,
quietly, slowly filling from the bottom up,
unnoticed.
Until
a meal, laughter, conversation shared
friends, daughter,
lingering late by the fire
Warming the cold, clear night
a deep breath… time slows
marking the moment.
As they recede, a familiar warmth
expanding heart… and awareness.
The scent of rainwater
penetrating, puddling, marking
the new home.
Perhaps memory fills a house like rainwater in a basement - it seeps in thru the floors and walls leaving stains behind after the water recedes. Our old house was deeply stained, marked by memory… and love. The substance of our little family - the love and experience we shared there - had penetrated deep into the place. The moments and milestones… the parties, holidays and gatherings… the friends, family and neighbors. Gouged hardwoods, marked ceilings, scuffed walls left behind. From slab to shingles the home held more memory - and love - than we could ever deserve.
But I didn’t see it then.
Even after I sensed the emptiness of our new home I didn’t understand it; fresh paint and clean countertops concealing a house void of memory (perhaps we’d made a mistake?) Neighbors, friends and family trickled in - a party, meals, the Holidays - scuffs and scratches left as they receded. But their significance still unnoticed - not yet touching the emptiness. Until…
Some friends and our daughter came for a meal, laughter, conversation… and lingered late by the fire. And as I drew a deep breath to slow time, I felt it. Something expanding in my chest… the emptiness receding. The scent of rainwater puddling in some low spot; memory - and love - penetrating the void. It’d been happening from the beginning - this filling. It just takes time - decades - and fills from the bottom up.