It Needed a Home

I fall in love and my rescue tendencies come to the fore.

THE LAST TIME we drove this slowly,
bringing something home,
we were carrying a 10-pound bundle of pink, all new.

(It was 1984, and now that bundle
is being married in a month!)

That’s what I was thinking
as we rounded each corner slowly,
him driving
and my hand reaching back
to sense the slightest movement.

* * *

THE DAY I went to see it
in a sea of dust and dirt,
in the house being cleaned out,
dumpster pulled up to the side door,
I saw what it could be,
and that it needed a home.

“One thing’s for sure,”
said a man of some years who was part of the work crew,
Whoever loves this
will love even the work of cleaning it up.”

Nobody knows that unless they are one of those people,
a process person.

* * *

THE DEAL took some doing to strike.
Asking someone to part with their history,
to let it go live elsewhere, always does.

But last night we went to get it,
to fetch it here,
to fetch it home,
its new home.

Someone had stuck a paid sign on it
and an age-faded paper wedding bell
between the glass doors
to keep them from shifting in transit.

It needed a home
and some tender care.
and the last time we drove that slowly,
bringing something home,
it was a bundle of pink.

About Marilyn

Reading, thinking, listening, writing and talking about faith, creativity, ESL for refugees, grief and finding the story in a story. Student of Spanish. Foe of procrastination. Cheez-it fan. People person with hermit tendencies or vice-versa. Thank you so much for reading.
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