I wrote this poem nearly eight years ago. This story was about my childhood home. In August of 2012, after Mom passed suddenly, we as a family spent eight days clearing it out and, when we closed it's doors that final day, it was empty, void of any life.
I could just as easily written this about my moving up to Roseville, leaving our beautiful home behind, a house standing in it's place.
A House vs. A Home
A house with just four walls and a roof is just a house.
A house filled with a couch, beds, tables and curtains is a home.
A house filled with a couch, beds, tables and curtains is a home.
A house without people is just a house.
A house with a loving couple inside is a home.
A house with a loving couple inside is a home.
A house without children is a quiet house.
A house filled with children is a home.
A house filled with children is a home.
A house built upon sand can come tumbling down.
A house built on rock stands tall and strong.
A house built on rock stands tall and strong.
A home full of love creates many wonderful memories.
A home is vibrant and alive.
A home is vibrant and alive.
The home, now empty, is just a shell.
For this place, now a house, has no more stories to tell – at least not to me.
For this place, now a house, has no more stories to tell – at least not to me.
Dawn Haskin
October 2012
October 2012
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