Someone commented about the floor boards at the corner of my living room couch. They averred that I could hire someone to go into the basement and add some wooden braces, hammer a few nails and stop the communication between the joists and plywood.
I thought about it, but decided I'd miss the greeting every time I come around the corner to sit and study the fire, watch TV, read, go online, write or just stare out the windows at the trees I've been watching since 1976.
No. The conversation will continue. I've not got the will to nail it down, to complain about their complaining. I figure they've got as many creaks and groans as I, and have earned the right to say so. Maybe they're just saying 'Good morning' and 'Good night'.
Perhaps we've stayed in these same rooms too long - maybe we do need a new song. For now, though - this one is so familiar and comfortable. No small thing in the autumn of your life.
(Click the picture for my little poem - the window is the bedroom window of our Cape Cod rental - Cool! I just discovered a second click expands it more :0)
3 comments:
I like your poem, Cathy. It mirrors the sentiments I have about a patch of squeeks under our carpet in the bedroom. In the middle of the night, my husband walks on this spot on the way to the bathroom. It is always a comfort to me, and I do open my eyes sometimes and watch him in the dark as he returns to the room.
Bonita, That is so lovely, so lovely.
Yes, I like the choice that you have made.
It's time to get up from the computer now, ooch, ouch, creak, groan.
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