Memories of Home
There is this place that I called "home" for 20 years.
It's a place where the cracks in the sidewalk are familiar from long afternoons of riding my bicycle from mailbox to mailbox.
There is a place where my birthday flag hung every November 13th.
And there is a corner with stacks of Hanon and Czerny piano exercise books that still make my fingers cramp.
And then there is a piano with worn felt and strings that will always feel like home to me.
There is a place that holds memories of summers past.
The tinker toy lamp that my Mother has been trying to replace for years, but that has become a favorite of the family.
When my Mom finally gets her kitchen remodeled and has a new kitchen light, I'll still have a little piece of home.
There is a yard with a tree that has more rings than I have years.
A place where the light is always on for us . . .
. . . a place where even the littlest details bring back a flood of memories.
There is a place where my birthday flag hung every November 13th.
There is a room with high ceilings where the metronome kept time for hours of piano practice.
And there is a corner with stacks of Hanon and Czerny piano exercise books that still make my fingers cramp.
And then there is a piano with worn felt and strings that will always feel like home to me.
There is a place that holds memories of summers past.
And then there is a kitchen that is lit with the tinker toy chandelier.
The tinker toy lamp that my Mother has been trying to replace for years, but that has become a favorite of the family.
When my Mom finally gets her kitchen remodeled and has a new kitchen light, I'll still have a little piece of home. Danny's placed dibs on the tinker toy lamp. And if he has anything to do with it, we'll have it hanging in our kitchen one day.
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