The Homestead
by Margie Doyle
The old folks left dishes
and pictures and chairs
The Great Grandmother loved parties
The more ridiculous, the better
We knew death in that house
The Toby Dammit stranger
Who seduced one of our own
Our brother brought her home
Out of the rain
The girlfriend before
Our brother’s last girlfriend
Now a grandmother herself
Mother of girls, sorrowing
the poet neighbor
Maker of houses himself
And boats and boys and tables
who taught
“Make something beautiful
And give it away”
And even the Great Grandmother
Who stretched her money and her dinners
And just wanted us to sing
And cry together
As if we were all safe in her arms
We knew life in that house
The birth of the magician in a hurry
The unwanted bunnies at Easter
Who became a part of the family
As did the delinquent cat
“you are welcome here”
The prodigal brother said.
The grandkids tearing the place apart
So the screen door is demolished
When the pitcher overthrows
And the catcher doesn’t catch
So what, we’re all together
We knew slumber in that house
Awakened by innocent nightmares
Guarded by the giant cedars
Drawn by the lullaby of the sea
We awoke,
begging
“Please mister, don’t step on me.”
Mattress to mattress
In the big dormitory upstairs
Not recognizing our brother
Because he wasn’t a little kid
This was where the Great Grandmother
Kept her stash
Hoarded her wealth
Counted her treasures
While she stroked our hair
Or cooked our favorite food
Or bought us cars
Though she looked after
Old folks younger
Than herself.
Thank you Margie.
This sounds like the best way to grow up – with family members of all ages and a cast of colorful, eccentric and loving characters. Thank you Margie! Your poem took me “there.”