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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