My Mother's Promise

DRIVING BY QUITE FAST. Did Someone Wave? No. Just the reflection off a tired for-sale sign. Turn around. Go see. An overgrown yard and empty house.

My feet touch the dirt of the driveway. I am filled with an inner trembling. It excites and frightens me.

I walk through weeds and knee-deep dried grass. I am overwhelmed with pity for this lonely house. I climb the porch steps. Shrubery long untended blocks my way. I push through. I peek through the dirty windows.

My soul groans.

I touch the door frame. Hot tears sting my eyes.

Who abandoned you?
Who took laughter from your rooms?
Who left you to decay?
Why?

I lay my forehead on the door. I whisper, “I will save you, I will wash you and dress you, I will love you.”

I have kept my promise.

She is reborn.

Her windows sparkle, sunshine fills her rooms. Paint and polish have made her young again.

At night, I feel her sighs of contentment. Her happiness brings me peace. I touch her walls. I feel her strength.

She says, “I will protect you.” I say, “I will never leave you.”

We are friends, My House and I.

—Mom, 1978