THIRTY SIX YEARS, one month and 15 days ago we
moved into our starter house.
We had a plastic couch, a double bed, a maple tree,
a lemon tree, a lime tree,
three elms, three apricot trees,
a broken rabbit hutch,
a half-finished stable,
and a dog.
Two weeks after we moved in, we started a baby.
In the fall our son was born.
In December one of my grandmothers died.
She used to make the dog dance to get the butter on her fingers.
We had Christmas and our son and each other and tears.
In the spring cherry tomatoes grew along the west wall.
We planted violets and ivy from my grandmother's garden, and
a mimosa tree that was two feet tall.
That winter we started another baby.
We knocked down the rabbit hutch and
cut down two of the elm trees.
That summer I made apricot pies and lemon meringue.
We closed the doors and curtains against the hot sun
during the day and
opened all the windows at night to catch
the cool air.
In the fall our daughter was born.
Later our children went to school and
so did we, again.
And we worked at living and on the starter house.
The mimosa tree grew to 30 feet, the maple another 15.
We gained two cats along the way, and
two more dogs.
Sequentially.
We lost more loved ones, and gained some too.
We took up causes.
We began journeys that took us away from home and
back again.
We tended the fire and replaced old windows.
We planted more tomatoes and more trees -
apple, plum, orange, avocado.
Grandchildren now visit,
the newest just 13 days old.
It's been a good starter house.
