My Childhood Home
White and brown vertical lines decorate the exterior
Palm tree sloping held down by a rope to stop its fall
Rose bushes of an assortment of colors: pink, red and yellow grandpa would cut for us to give to our teachers on appreciation day
Grandma perched in front of the kitchen window listening to the gossip on alder st
Root beer floats and baked Mac cheese were my favorite pastime
Grandpa’s bird, Cookie, became my morning alarm to awake to chirping
Grandma sat in her familiar spot on the couch in the den yelling and hollering at the TV watching a Lakers game
My little ears could hear her, “Kobe, that cocky son of a bitch!”
All day in the same sitting position, knitting, crocheting, stitching — she taught me the jack of her trade
The couch became indented with her large body
Orange and grape soda cans filled the recycle bin making my brother’s teeth rotten
Grandpa’s famous jerky slow cooking in his study piled with hoarding objects
Hummingbirds come to visit under the big, overgrown orange tree
I would look for four-leaved clovers to find fairies near
Stretches of a rainbow in the distance and I wondered would gold be at the end
Brown paint stripping from the handmade patio my grandpa built
A man of few words confined to his study and solitude
Grandma; a woman of fiery presence and hot-tongued talks
Her bed brought me comfort to scare away the nightmares
Grandma anxiously picked her face; perhaps I picked up my bad skin habits from her
She read sappy, poorly-written romance novels maybe to escape her lovelessness
They slept in separate rooms without utterance of I love you
50+ years of marriage; a former Sunday school teacher and navy veteran who used to write love letters to each other during World War II
When did the love become lost? When did the spark die out?
Big bowls of jello for hot summer days; hot chocolate with mini marshmallows for winter nights
Canadian bacon with grape jelly toast; grandma’s go-to breakfast
My first sip of red wine partook in this house out of curiosity
I hated the bitter taste; in adulthood wine brings me solace
Strawberry pop-tarts in the morning; car rides with grandpa to school
Baths in tubs with soapy water my dad would wash my long mane
Hearing daddy’s work boots stomp on the creaky wood; my favorite time of day
Bland TV dinners on folding trays in the evening dusk
Daddy’s calloused hands filled with Pink hair lotion to caress my tender scalp
Brothers fighting over the play station console
Little terrors to disrupt the peace and quiet
Grandpa’s long strides down the hallway for a cold can of beer
Photo albums piled in the hall closet filled with picture perfect memories
The photographer who captured life’s little moments
Our biggest soccer fans on the sidelines; grandma shouting profanities; grandpa taking pictures
Grandma; the reason I am a lover of books
Daddy passed down his talent of the eloquence of words
Cigarette smells in the air from late night inhales from my dad’s lips
Snoring loudly on the sofa couch with my brothers curled at his right side
Grandma’s smile on Christmas morning when we opened presents from Santa
String-cheese and a glass of milk left the night before
Grocery-store bought birthday cakes on birthdays
Grandma’s slippers gliding across the floor with heavy feet in her nightgown
My childhood home you are missed
The only place that felt like home
Safety enveloped the white walls
A sense of warmth and wholeness where my inner child ran free
The summer before sixth grade, my safety net was pulled from under me
Farewell the home that resurrected life back into me
The home that gave me a big backyard to breathe
The home where I can recall ever being the real me
She calls me by her name to find my way back
My childhood home you are the remembrance of hope
Curled in fetal position on my cold bathroom floor
It is you, my childhood home, I meditate on
You are my angel to save me from the attack of my past demons
Now the home is invaded by strangers; stone cold gray and modern
It has lost its character; it has lost its touch
My childhood home you are forever captured like a photograph in my memory
My childhood home, do you remember me?
