Today I drove past a house

we almost bought and heard

through the open window music

made by some other family.

We don’t make music ourselves, in fact

we define our differences

by what we listen to.

And what we mean by family

has changed since then

as we grew larger then smaller again

in ways we knew would happen

and yet didn’t expect.

Each choice is a winnowing,

and sometimes at night I hear

all the possibilities creak open

and shut like screendoors

in the wind,

making an almost musical


to what I know

of love and history.

-Linda Pastan


painting: Edward Hopper

The Mansard Roof, 1923.

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