At my mother’s house
Children’s laughter no longer rings through sunlit rooms
A family of one has settled in
But days are long here
Nature bewitches
Fall’s brilliant yellow leaves shine on rainy days
The barrenness of winter doesn’t disappoint
Spring’s lush green uplifts the darkest mood
On muggy summer nights crickets hold concerts that lull me to sleep
At my mother’s house
I write mornings from my Haverford haven
A collage of sentiments stain loose-leaf journals
We’re both now free from the familial thunder
In my mother’s house
I finally have a vacation home
Only two hours away but far from the chiasso of New York City
Where I luxuriate in the slow pace and abundant space
At my mother’s house
Some nights I hear moaning but it can’t be her
For I see the shadow of her stunning smile
Everywhere there’s beauty
From my mother’s house
I wonder if she was ever lonely
Though she cultivated new friends each year
Many whom I now call family
My mother adored her last home
It was in my father’s afterlife that she glowed the most
Boasting about her three daughters and coddling her grandchildren
The English professor was proudest of her domestic role
From my precious second home
I bless the gods who stopped my sisters from breaking the will
I toast the one who gave me life
For I got the greatest gift of all
About Amy Barone
