Here I am

Here I was

I stand on the dock, listening to the waves, rolling through the years.

We are de constructing ourselves, taking out chunks, as we carry out memories

The memories are attached to chairs, pictures, plates, life jackets. They hang from the walls, they creak underfoot. The doors that won’t close. The sounds in the night. The rhapsody of the birds in the air.

This place that has raised, and nurtured three generations. Suffered and shone. Lifted and challenged. Babbling voices. Laughter rising, settling, to rest dripping from the pines. It has seen the vagaries of weather. Echoed with the call of the Loon. Heard the gentle slapping of the paddle.

I am reminded of the sizzle of the BBQ. The clatter of dishes. The bark of dogs. The chasing of bikes through the trees The silence of a long walk

The things go away  to the dump, the thrift store.  The memories are packed into my mind to be revived when I feel the pull.

Here I was.

Here I am.

Here I will ever be.