The house of memory is large,
mostly warm and comfortable,
but it has its moments.
The foundation is strong,
built with love by family and friends,
each leaving a bit of themselves when they stop to visit.
Outside the window, moments whiz past,
some blow in through the cracks and rattle the windows
till they are invited in to stay.

I don't give a thought to cleaning house,
it would be a pointless effort.
The good memories are bright and joyful,
and I plan to hold onto them forever.
The darker memories are never fully washed away,
no matter how hard you try;
they may fade and go unnoticed for a time,
but then distracted by something
you bump into a door you never wanted to open again.

Sometimes I embrace the dark memories,
remembering the pain, the sorrows, the grief,
and I remember I have survived them all,
aided by the love held in the rooms of happy memories.
I can gently close those doors behind me,
walk outside to breathe the fresh air.
It may not always be sunny; life has its share of storms,
but outside the house of memory
the world is fizzing with life and love and light,
where new memories are waiting to be born.
The most wonderful thing about the house of memory
is that there's always room for expansion.

~Elise Skidmore ©2024

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2 Comments

    1. Thanks so much, Rosemary! We all have houses of memory, so even though they may look different (as houses in general so often do), it’s something I think we all share.