Yellow House

The yellow house around the corner is now coated in grey

Thick and muddy

My mother once lived there, it is considered our home though I did not grow up in that house

Rather the stories she tells about that place is what makes it feel homely to me

About how grandpa would spend his days in the garden

A cigarette with an inch long ash on the end

And how when the ice cream truck drove by, grandma would hand each kid on the block a dime and they would all run out in a herd

A line up down the street

The yellow house around the corner was the first thing you’d see

As you’d make the sharp turn onto the street

It would welcome you

And say goodbye

When the little old lady would water its purple flowers on the front lawn, she would wave as you drove by

Hunched over

With her small dog yapping

And each Halloween, when I would go to trick-or-treat, I’d remind her that my mother grew up in her house

She liked that

She’d give me a second handful of candies as her dog went wild behind the screen door

The yellow house around the corner is now empty

There is no little old lady

Only her dog

And her children, grown up, on ladders, with hammers and paint

Redecorating

Changing it for its new owners

The yellow house around the corner does not welcome me anymore

There is no little old lady to wave goodbye to me

My mother no longer calls it her house

It’s no longer yellow, it’s grey