after a winter of emotional sorting, new life was visible: the house went on the market soon before spring equinox
but of course potential buyers felt on their skin all that had happened there — parents marriage dead and collecting dust in the attic i remember happily eating pizza by the big back window the day we owned it, what happened — and shimmied away to other less haunted houses
like our family esteem, the price dropped low and it finally sold in june — happy birthday to me — they settled in deep july the humidity appropriately weighty and the metal key hot enough to sizzle the brand of ownership onto new palms every childhood memory transferring hands in a matter of seconds
and some other family will enjoy my sun-splashed winter reading spot, back window utterly capturing the shy winter sun
and some other family will enjoy the room where my grandfather expired beige carpet permanently stained with viscerals
and some other family will enjoy the garden, the bedroom where i made out with high-school boyfriend, the bathroom that quickly molds, my tie dye stains on the basement floor the maples in the yard, the sunflower patch, the cupboard that held all my packed lunch material.
some other family will cook, clean, lounge, have people over for holiday dinners, laugh, cry, beat each other at card games, make tea, drink wine. their pets will live and die here, and they’ll think they own this place.
and some other family will enjoy the bones of the family before them piled under the basement steps.
s.r.mccann
