There was always a puddle on our street

Little pink house next to the canary yellow one

A walkway leading to the front door, host 

To innumerable photo shoots

Here is three year old diva, with checkered dress and sunglasses.

Here is halloween, old dance costumes reenvisioned.

Here is convivial Mozart, wielding his baton, dress up day for music class.

The excitement to get home.

Tree stumps from when we cut down the old almond tree

A moment of devastation, for us all.

Its roots gargantuan and gnarled

My first memory of scraped knee, watching the

Patchwork of lines fill up with red, before the tears.

Needed 2 hands to open the door:

Insert key, lift handle, turn, open

As if to remind you home is something you work for

Must tend to, a special jiggle and attention

To make sure you can get in.