How Lucky I Have Been

April 1, 2013

How lucky I have been

(drafted from a Go, ten minutes, prompt from Natalie Goldberg, Old Friend from Far Away)

I have never missed a mortgage payment,

yet.

I have been late,

never never

yet.

I bought a house for what felt like too much.

I loved it, held it, didn't take the best care of it.

It needed work, which I didn't understand,

but I loved it and held it for 16 years.

A time came to sell it,

for more than triple the amount I first spent.

I miss it.

I bought another house for what felt like too much.

I loved and hold it, and do my best to take care of it.

It pays for itself,

with the roof that shelters us, 

the gardens that feed us,

the hens in the coop who create eggs

and fertilizer for the yard, 

with the fireplace that warms up,

and the 200 years of life it lived before me

to remind us

that nothing is static.

I bake bread in the house

as friends from far away

send me calendars with pictures

with beaches

where I once frolicked,

pictures and stories of restaurants 

that once wined and dined me,

recipes,

remembrances of the past.

I blend them into the present

as the debt collector parks

on the other side of the street

even as he is looking for my house,

for me.

Hard times all around, he says.

Yes, I reply stiffly,

I'm doing my best.

Let them know that;

they just need to know that you're trying.

I snort. 

After all, debt collector is a job title, too,

with a description,

collect debt.

I make the call. 

They say they know it's hard all around,

keep trying.

I hang up the phone,

knowing I can run but not run away