The house is quiet.
All three of you, oblivious, sleep soundly in
You trust me to keep you safe. Happy.
All by myself.
The house is dark.
Only one light remains in the kitchen. A white
You must assume I am normal. Steady Mommy.
I dig for courage.
The house is yours.
The back yard anticipates time with you
Your breakfast will be ready when you wake. Laundry clean.
I’ll get up early.
The house is huge.
Our first night on our own together in these
You don’t notice that I am different. Breakable.
The house is alive.
Sixteen years of memories, silently, and loudly
You will fight to remember. Hold tightly.
I will hope to forget.