The house that I grew up in has changed through the years.
It hides now in the foliage so lush and thick around it.
It holds countless memories--of laughter, tears, and fears--
Despite the ocean of leaves and bushes that have drowned it.
 
I still can see us playing in what was once a yard--
Croquet, catch, softball, and often kick the can.
Finding things to keep us busy wasn't hard.
We played cops and robbers, tag, and Superman.
 
I see us in our costumes running out the door,
Eager to fill our trick-or-treat bags with treats.
In December, we rearranged the furniture before
Dad brought home our tree and Mom put out the sweets.
 
The smell of donuts frying in Mom's old deep fryer
Brought my weekend morning slumber to a halt.
The way she planned out life was something to admire.
She was thoughtful, caring, and organized to a fault.

I still feel the excitement of family get-togethers,
Visits from relatives, parties with our friends.
Our relationships were bonds instead of tethers.
I feel we maintained a love that never ends.
 
Then there was the time of chaos when my brother
Fell from a car, cracked his head, and almost died.
Though blinded, he survived; but unlike any other,
That was a time when we were terrified.
 
That house saw me pass through many years of school--
From kindergarten till I got my college degree.
During my hippie years when I thought I was cool,
The house was still my refuge while I was finding me.
 
Into the house came my newly adopted sister
While I was still in college. Soon the Army called.
I said good-by, but ****! how I missed her!
That was one of the few times I have bawled.
 
After I'd left for the Army, my parents moved away.
I never once set foot inside that house again.
Although I now live in a different house today;
I keep having dreams of that house from way back when.
 
Many many things are only memories now;
So many family and friends have departed.
I trust that thoughts of love and gratitude somehow
Will keep me from feeling down and broken-hearted.

- by Bob B