I Remember

It was raining the day we left
The kitchen was steamy,
The windows fogged over so you couldn’t see the pine trees,
only different shades of grey.
Looking out you could imagine being anywhere,
in a plane
on top of some wild mountain.

When Dad came home he didn’t say a thing
just went into the bedroom and shut the door,
and the air got all heavy.
Funny I didn’t notice ‘till then
the lines around Mom’s mouth
or the stiff way she moved,
stirring pans of
something.
She put her spoon down
turned around and said,
Jeff, get your sister ready to go out and yourself too.

Then it was almost dark
and Mom and Annie were on the porch,
putting on their boots.
I remember
no one had turned on the living room lights.
I saw the furniture
shadowy,
huddled like old people,
just before I closed the door.

6 December 1976 English 224