Letting Go of Home

That old faucet leaks. Done so for many a year. I let it drip in that bowl, birds; chipmunks; squirrel and other critters come here for a drink. This here tree out front? Wife and I planted it. Yep. Day we moved in here. I wanted a Saguaro. Mave wanted a good shade tree. Inside…watch yer step, that old board needs fixin', I’ll show you the rooms. This here was Mave’s favorite room. She picked out those curtains there. That’s my chair right there. Come into the kitchen, take a look around. Mave put up many a jar of jelly. Best in the state. Now up these stairs, are the bed rooms. This one’s Joe’s. He was our oldest. Gone now. Broke his mothers heart it did. He died in the war. A hero. This room was Katie’s. Her and my Mave painted it. Don’t care much for pink. But Katie had her heart set. But, I guess you could repaint. This little room here, Mave turned into a sewin’ room. Her own little hide away. Said I got the barn, so she needed her own little space. This was Mave’s and mine. Now it’s just me. It’s too big. I sleep on the couch. Fall asleep with the TV., Mave hated when I did that. Well, you’ve seen the house. Told you what I could 'bout it. If these walls could talk. You’d get an earful that’s sure. They’d likely never shut up. Me and Mave were here fifty two years till she died. Then just me ten more. Raised our two young’uns right here. Ain’t got no grankids as yet. Now, you two young folk, take yer time and think ’bout it. Don’t want to rush this. It will still be here for ya, when you two make up yer mind, Got my memories. First house is the most ‘portant. How you get on here, sets up the rest of your life, to make your own memories. This poem was inspired by one of our local, crusty, old cowpoke, desert characters. He spoke straight from the hip, with no nonsense or frills. I sure wish we could have bought that old homestead. Entered in the contest "What's Your Pleasure" Hosted by Carol Brown Placement : 3rd