I took a walk around our house this morning
And, as through each room I roamed,
I silently wondered to myself
when did this house become our home?
I passed the little chair Deborah sat in
at her house when she was small.
Our children and grandchildren have sat there too…
It now sits unused…against the wall.
I passed what looks like an ordinary door…
in the the hallway…painted white
On the other side…a family history
recording years in terms of height.
On a desk in the back bedroom
as I step in past the door
I’m drawn to a picture of Deborah’s Mom and Dad…
remembering when they once waked these floors…
In this same room sits an old trunk
which is not quite what it appears
for that trunk is filled with a host memories
we’ve made in 30 years….
I remembered how this old house was just a house
the first day that we spied her….
I think, perhaps, she started to become our home
with our first memory made inside her…
And how all the succeeding memories
no matter how big or small
have filled this house with wonder
as they painted themselves upon the walls.
And I had to stop and smile
in every room I roamed…
recalling all the memories
that have made this house…our home.
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