When I Go Home Again

Previously published in Clapboard House Review 2010

When I go home again
I go to the places that have stayed the same
the rocky coast of New Hampshire,
where there is sometimes sand
and homes filled with children and rules

the wooden kitchen table
in summer
feels, damp with east coast humidity

the kitchen desk filled with photos and cards
a Frost poem-card about swinging from branches
one could do worse than be a swinger of branches

My old room with the single bed removed,
now home to a model railroad

I take in the smells
hear Mom and Dad repeat their skit
I didn’t call you for dinner yet
What a bummer dinner isn’t ready yet

I write this in the Colorado aridity
remembering humidity and humor
my first home

and no matter what age appears on forms
or spoken when asked
I still need her okay, her approval.

every day,
her love matters.