We Do Mostly Ache

We Do Mostly Ache

(“But now they are longing for a better, that is, a heavenly country; accordingly, God is not ashamed of them—of being called their God. In fact, He has gotten a city ready for them.” Hebrews 11:16

It is difficult to find a chair to sit in hours at a time
that will not leave your back in knots wishing for a bit more slack on the line.
When it is more painful to sit than it is to walk in the sun
the brain should alarm the legs and arms about vitamin d and
dogs’ needs for walks along the riverbank.

There are homes we have slept in, rooms where we ate,
a bar in the kitchen, a table in the salle a manger,
a desk where we composed our essays last minute,
exposing our procrastinated love of backs against the wall.

There are yards unmowed, a quarter acre I was told,
dog runs never cleaned for weeks at a time,
There are picket fences in the front, neat rows of a
middle class pose, with a support in the corner
and two pickets along the street with finials missing;
one day would fix and paint it, but 10 years it stayed
incomplete.

Next door was a best friend, we learned boxing and
girls in his garage not mine. Ours was a flood of boxes
kept, mostly papers, of four children’s records, crayon alphabets
to eighth grade diplomas.

Further up the street, a brown-eyed beauty, a first crush,
and the first inspiration to write of love after a front-porch
talk with the moon tickling her reflecting hair.

But we cannot return, that home is not our own,
other have bought it and sold it and finally mown
the yard let go, the pickets removed, the garage the dream
of a cabinet-maker’s gear.

Home is not where our feet are planted, nor the floor underneath
morning meal. Home sometimes seldomly return after we
leave behind the chores we never quite finished at parents’
admonition.

We do mostly ache for at least a reflection of the loves we
found and lost in the house where (fire or frost), safety was
first discovered when we reflected full grown on the provisions,
the contentment, the awkward age and growing pains,
the favorite meals and cartoon bandaids,
all provided (looking back, yes, again) freely and
without cost.