I live in a house with no stairs eighteen hundred thirty two square feet three bedrooms, two baths, two car garage a lanai Houses with stairs are for the young People who live in them go to work everyday have a wife and kids and a dog Coming downstairs in the morning is the beginning of a commute teens go upstairs to their room before slamming the door Men walk upstairs behind their wives admiring the turn of her hip knowing he soon will be taking off that night gown. I am alone in my house with no stairs the cat long gone cats are less trouble you don’t have to walk them I don’t need stairs anymore my girls are long gone living their lives there is no woman to follow upstairs each night. When I get up in the morning there is no place I have to be There is laundry day food shopping day clean the house day And I can always do it tomorrow I can spend stormy days in my bathrobe if I like No one is coming to the door I live in half the house the back half near the television and the microwave near the lanai where I have my espresso and a Macanudo. I dust the other half of the house while spending my day trying to write poetry.
Who has it better?
And I think about what went before all the choices. great and poor and how I never thought I’d miss the slamming of that old screen door.
I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004.
We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world.
I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday.
I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics.