That Home

The home is that of a family. In the yard lay a ball during the heat of long summer days, when the patter of bare feet walk around a home of outdated wallpaper and floral tiles. In the living room, children lay on the shag carpet playing games. Father watches over them from behind the Sunday paper in his faded, old recliner. The clock on the wall passes year by year. The children have grown. Mother and Father are left in that aging home. Each corner has a laugh. Each shadow a mistake, Each moment has a memory.