Written for:  Poetic Bloomings2 - Prompt #299 - A House Is Not A Home
We are writing about a house or a home. It could be a house we live(d) in, a house we wished was ours, a supposed haunted house … it might be our home and the people in it. There is a difference between a house (the building) and a home (the environment in which we prospered). Choose one about which to wax poetic.
Home was an apartment
in a housing project. 
Although there were houses
in our neighborhood, we tended
to stick to our surroundings,
lucky to have an abundance
of kids for friends.
Ours was only one building–
72 families–of many.  How
times have changed since
childhood.  Parents and two
children, two bedrooms, one
bathroom.  I tried to divide
the room I shared with my
sister in half.  Somehow,
we always found each other's
belongings on the opposite side.
Although Mom worked, we could
count on her baking–chocolate
chip cookies, *mandelbrot, cakes,
and rice pudding. A sterling
cook with an extensive repertoire,
and daughters underfoot eager
to learn.  Grandparents, aunts,
uncles, and cousins visited
our warm home where laughter
was king.  Our home had just
the right amount of room
for us.

*mandelbrot was the equivalent of biscotti.
I remember a long sheet coming out of the
oven and cut into strips. 


About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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2 Responses to 2105

  1. Kathleen says:

    Love the memory


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