Driving Past the Old Family Farm
eyes peeled, we pore over the dreary brown quilt
squares of winter farmland, searching for the familiar
patch preserved so precisely in our minds as it was
thirty years ago that we nearly fail to realize
when we finally come upon it, pass right by
wait, turn back
the house, sided in slate gray now
instead of dingy white, the wise
old tree out front even bigger
yes, that’s it, that’s the place
where we found caterpillars
once, the hill we frolicked green
summer mornings, the steps we worried
grandma would fall down, break a hip
did she? I can’t remember
but I wonder if this place does. do hills
and houses hold on to memories? miss
those who filled them, frying eggs, reading
newspapers, sweeping cobwebs, saying prayers?
is it possible these fields could still know our faces?
do you think they’re happy to see us now?
15 thoughts on "Driving Past the Old Family Farm"
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love the italicized train of thought within/between the stanza train of thought suggesting we remember them more than they remember us
What Gaby said. Those italicized lines add a special element to this.
Nice juxtaposition of past and present.
Great exploration of what it’s like re-visiting places from our past.
Perhaps looking for ourselves as much as the place.
Love the line:
“do hills
and houses hold on to memories?”
I like the interplay between questions and answers. A beautiful exposition of memories.
Love the form; your own words are integral. Also love the line, “ is it possible these fields could still know our faces?”
Haunting, Chelsie!
You create a wonderful picture that captures the emotions of going back to a place once loved. I have to believe the homes and fields remember us! Are glad to see us again.
love the single lined dialogue
and adore:
do hills
and houses hold on to memories? miss
those who filled them, frying eggs, reading
newspapers, sweeping cobwebs, saying prayers?
is it possible these fields could still know our faces?
I love the lack of punctuation. The narrative is very accessible. I love how the poems is linenated.
You capture that heart-wringing feeling here.
Beautiful. Like others, I love “do hills / and houses hold on to memories?” I like to believe they do. They say some types of rocks can hold sounds. Our voices preserved in stone.
I like the way something is happening that tracks and travels physically but then in memory and then in pondering. Interesting that my favorite line is “did she? I can’t remember”…for some reason that combination of memory and forgetfulness really sent me.
Thanks for this one.
Love the sentiment of this and the images
“miss those who filled them”
Whew heavily felt.
Loving the full blown nostalgia here 🙂