Pulling out of the cottage parking lot,
I roll slowly down the summer bright
gravel road, tires crunching, crunching.
Mica and garnets are speared by sun fragments.
Eric, Eamon and Elzza caught in sunbeams
pause while walking toward the cottage…
window rolled down, I lean out:
move your car up in back of Edna’s…
OK… see you Mom.
Easing off the brake, easing down the hill,
so many strangers walking around…
I completely stop over and over.
Who are these people?
All new faces, no familiar neighbors…
coming up to #13 my little remodeled cottage,
amazed to see the changes: two car garage,
raised roof with skylights, fruit trees…
not much left from how I had the yard.
Next I’m on horseback urging her into a canter,
leaning to whisper speed into twitching ears…
I miss the sweet times living there;
I miss the family gatherings, I miss my parents.
I urge her faster past this point of missing.
The old granite rock cellar hole sits empty…
brook across the road flows on this side;
how odd that the road has moved…
there’s the spot where my son was hit by the car.
Wading through the misplaced brook, her hooves
splash rainbows that drop onto asphalt washing
the residual stain away…
This was such a heavy dream –sigh…
I miss the way my son was before the accident;
typical 11 year old boy full of life and energy… such
a huge life change to live the rest of his journey with
disability and discomfort. Also when we left CT, my
daughter was in high school. Her partner and child were
never at the lake – I remember being puzzled in the dream!