House for Sale

by Nancy Aikins

I stood in my empty kitchen

missing everything that made it a kitchen

and looked out the picture window into the back yard.

There is the old silver maple, still falling apart, busy with bugs and birds

taking advantage of its slow death. There is the fire pit filled with water,

the pit my husband built for his oldest son’s graduation party.

There is the hole where the fountain was,

the fountain I made for our nephew’s graduation party.

Over there is the spent garden,

where peonies bent over, heavy with beauty,

where asparagus sprouted and seeded,

tomatoes overflowed into the next yard,

mint took over just as the ribbon plant,

and flowers kept coming back, year after year.

There is the fairy garden, the stack of chairs,

the broken lattice and some bricks.

The kitchen is quiet, but I can hear all our conversations,

jokes, laughter, homework sessions, planning sessions, holiday meals,

dish washing, dogs, cats, guests. I can see the table that needs cleared,

the floor that needs swept, the shoes left there from yesterday,

the sweater on the back of the chair, books, batteries, toys, pencils.

That floor never did get replaced. Neither did the doors or windows.

The walls and wallpaper took a long time, but looked nice.

The kids never came back for seven years. By then, we got more.

Working was hard, as the kids all had needs and I chose to be there.

It was fun and it was worth it, but something had to go

and it would not be people or memories, but the house and sometimes our nerves.

That kitchen will never be empty.