Ghosts

Ghosts roam my house.

They run down the stairs and through the hall. 

The echos call: "Mom, look!" "Mom, can I..." "Mom, will you..." "Mom, I can't find..." "Mom, I need..."

Backpacks on chairs.

Looking for cleats.

Clothes all over the bedroom and dishes on the counter.

Toothpaste globs in the sink.

Laughter, knock-knock jokes, Dad jokes.

Crying, yelling, dirty faces, soccer balls and baseball mits.

Piano plunking. 

Frustration over homework. Pencils, pens and papers lying around.

Constantly full dishwasher and four gallons of milk that won't last the week.

Pillows and blankets on the floor in front of the TV.

Books upside down on the couch.

Lights left on and doors ajar.

Bikes and scooters on the driveway.

Impromtu soccer, basketball, football.

Stitches and broken bones.

Whooshing of medical machines in the front room.

Wheelchair and medical food. 

Squeaks and squeals from happy babies.

Laughter as big brothers spin the wheelchair around.

Early morning alarms, late night talks. 

Carpools upon carpools.

Baseball and soccer tournaments, ballroom competitions.

Choir and band concerts and marching band.

Violins, trumpet, trombone, even a tuba.

All gone...

Silence.

Ghosts.

I try to catch them, and they whisper back...

We're grown, we're gone. 

Counters empty.

Beds made, rooms clean.

No waiting up for someone.

Just the two of us and the dogs now.

It's so empty...

So quiet. 

The past echos in my ears. 

Empty nest, all flown. 

“Ghosts are those memories that are too strong to be forgotten for good, echoing across the years and refusing to be obliterated by time.”

- Caitlín R. Kiernan