The House
by ​Samuel Carter '18 

Sometimes I think about the house,
The way the third step creaked on your way to the basement,
The way the front door would never quite close,
The too-old refrigerator in the kitchen, 
The view from the attic windows,
The white-picket fence.
What a house.

I think some more,
And then I remember,
Our secret hiding spot in the woods
The endless games of tag in the front yard,
The pinkie-promises and blood-sworn friendships,
The way the dog would lounge on the porch without a care in the world.
What a house.

Then it all comes back,
The weekly Sunday dinners,
The siblings' high-school sweethearts,
The way that mom's hugs could end all tears,
The way dad convinced you everything was going to be okay.
Our house.

And I remember,
A week after dad went to work and never came back,
How we sat in the front yard,
Suddenly in perfect harmony,
Watching the sunset in silence,
Then looking at the stars without a word,
And falling asleep, 
With nothing but our dreams and each other.
What a house.
What a home.

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