Nanny Goat Beach on Sapelo Island: Dec 2014. Photo by Miranda Roehrick

 

 Propped up on my pillows while the house still sleeps,

my mind skips backwards to my first home house,

now a parking lot_literally.

The second home house

is now somebody else’s rental.

My first family, Silas, Irene & Betty,

live now only in memory.

This house is filled with love from the two still sleeping.

More and more I think in scores, it feels like skipping, a fast glide over sections of life, 

landing for a second on a milestone then propelling to the next.

Some numbers are odd ducks, even if something major happened.

For example: do I really recall 23? 31? 56? 

Odd duck years,

but 0-10 were all winners,

the years of real skipping, always running and make-believe.

If I were still one to kneel in prayer_

left that after the second home house,

I’d say I’m blessed with the glory 

of hearing birds outside this window,

of being here_relatively sane_to write this,

and blessed with the gift of you reading it.