I am homesick for Grammy’s kitchen

And the round table that fit all seven of us

With the midtone wooden cabinets and the orange carpet

(Yes, orange carpet, an oddity surely)

The north facing windows that looked out over the patio

Where the green and white rockers waited.

I’m homesick for her big yellow bowl

(Which now lives in my cabinet)

Filled with strawberries and sugar

Ready to be poured over the biggest biscuit with butter,

A favorite summer supper.

(She always called it supper; dinner was at lunch time).

Homesick for her smile

And the easiness of sitting

Chatting, waiting, doing nothing

As the sun sunk low and the night cooled the farmhouse

(Which turned mysterious in an exciting way when I slept in my uncle’s old room).

The longing for that staircase which seemed infinite as a child

And the dim bathroom at the top of the house

With its warn carpet, wet from my feet

(Yes, carpet in the bathroom; I know)

And the wonder I felt playing with Mom’s Barbies

In a room still cluttered with her old things.

I’m homesick for that house

Where we lined up toys along the sill of the window cut into the staircase wall

And marveled at the green shag carpet of the front room

Because it was so different

(Very exciting for a child)

Spending what felt like the whole summer

Reading and wondering and looking for cats.

What a place of delight, that old house.

I’m homesick to go back.