For a hundred years music was round
It came in LPS, compact discs, and music rolls
All played that wild, thumping, unforgettable sound.
That parents knew was the devil reaching for their children’s’ souls
Today the 15 year old sits and stares
Ipod in bra, earphone in ear, rebellious and unafraid
Quizzically holding grandpa’s disc in her hands, unawares
Of that old devil’s sinful music, itching to be played.
A father raises a daughter
or does she raise him?
When does the child become the parent?
The parent the child?
Where and when does that bond grow?
Mothers and daughters
that relationship exists in a dance
A constant dizzying dance
of hormones and oxytocin
that goes on throughout their lives
A constant gravitational push and pull
that forces orbiting bodies
to weep and cry
giggle and laugh
A relationship that does not even end,
in death.
The relationship
between
a father and daughter
maybe distant or close
tight or lose.
Yet
they each leave an imprint
like a fingerprint
on each others souls
In the picture
my grandfather sits at his daughter’s wedding
His wife by his side
talking to another.
My grandfather’s eyes
however
are not on his wife
instead
he looks across the room
at his daughter
Her future is before her
Her future is with this other man
He has given her away.
His chest bleeds just a little
from where
he tore out that piece of his heart
to set her free.
© by Daniel DeMarle 3/19/2014
They called us often
Her voice called us
Called us to wake us
Called us for breakfast, lunch, and dinner
Called us back from Never Never Land
Called us back from Narnia
Called us back from the wardrobe
Called us to chores, to homework, to play,
Called us back to home
Called us back to love.
His voice called us often
Called us back from upstairs
Called us to tell us an interesting fact or story
Called us when we were in trouble
Called us when he came home after work
Called us over the distance
Called us to challenge us to think
Called us to challenge us to achieve
Called us, and in that call, we heard, love.
As we grew, the calls changed
They called us with news
They called us to gatherings
They called us to check in
They called us with advice
They called us with interesting stories
They called us home
When we were young their voices were strong and powerful
Their voices shattered evil spells
Sent monsters back slithering under the bed
Sent us love, and love, and love.
Then their voices got tired
or maybe we were so busy living
that we forgot to listen to their call.
Then their voices got old
Then their voices reached out to us
They called to us to tell us things
They called to us to tell us truths
They called to us to remind us where Alice had lost the key
They called to us for help.
Now their voices are lost to us
Our ships flounder and toss at sea
The siren call that was their voices
That always pointed out the way home
Is quiet.
Now
Now, no matter how often we call that number
No one is there to answer.
But on a cold night
I stand on a frozen pond
I listen with all my heart
I clap for tinkerbell
I clap and clap and I believe
And on that cold pond,
I hear the wind carrying those words
Those words they whispered to each of us
oh so softly when we were asleep
Sweet dreams my love
Sweet dreams.
Once a young couple saw this house.
They moved in, with one young one in tow.
The family grew, and the house grew to.
A bomb shelter, and a porch
Not enough room.
A kitchen addition
Another porch
All added on.
As the family grew,
They grew outdoors
A pond was made deeper
Pools came and went,
and came again
Gardens, gardens everywhere.
Children weeding, children eating.
Lawn mowers, mowing
The hot kiss of the summer grass
The cold kiss of the winter snow.
Yet still more room?
Construction begins
An attic is changed
Was it magic? Or just hard work?
A big cold bedroom and another bath
Both become,
Forever
The realm of the fairer sex.
Lothlórien
No boys, like dwarves allowed
Eye of newt and magic spells
Boys forever banned to the lower realms, Moria, the second floor.
At one point there were four, 3 girls and a boy.
Hopes of even numbers shattered.
Then another boy 3, and 2, oh so close.
Then another girl, bright and smiley.
Add another boy to make it…4 and 3?.
Then a pause. Game over. The ref is heading out the door.
Children in school, children in plays.
But wait overtime is called.
The owners meet and conference call and then…
Finally a last one added to the brood.
Boy or girl? Even or not?
The final score is – 4 and 4!
Now let there be wars.
The family rejoiced, and the house,
The house grew tired.
As the family grew so did the driveway.
There were basketball games
There was wood to split
There were bikes galore
There was a camper in the yard
And what
What was that?
A monkey in the house!
Then there were friends
Neighbors
Social hours
Fairy circles
Wild kingdom in the halls
Hidden mouse doors
Terabithia and middle earth.
Then there were boyfriends, lots of those.
And then cars, and cars, AND CARS!
Where was Neal Cassidy when it came time to park those cars?
Graduations
Then the children
One by one
Started to go
Away…
Colleges called, yes all eight
All away, all returning with degrees
Before heading off again.
The house started to relax,
The numbers started to thin.
but then
Was that the sound of tiny reindeers?
No!
What ho? Suddenly new family members
Inlaws and outlaws, children moving home
Babies again, hadn’t the house already done this before?
The house had to stop and ask itself…
Would they ever go?
Then they did.
One by one.
The house grew
Empty.
But not yet, Now there was
Just two.
The first two, all these years
Still together.
The house drew them in
Settling around them
Like an old cardigan
Then.
Then they were gone.
After all those years they could not be apart.
No, not for very long.
The second one quickly followed the first.
Now the house stood
Silent.
Until
A bustle of activity, unfamiliar feet
Vans, cars, trailers moving things around
Things stored away for 50 years
Brought out to see the day.
Then the sale.
Little bits of this and that, disappearing
Off to go to other houses, other homes.
Now,
Suddenly,
The house stands empty.
Echoes ring in and out.
Then fade.
The house sits quiet.
Empty rooms, Empty halls.
What next?
Who can tell?
leavingleavesineaves 