Playing House

Ever since I was a child,

I loved playing house
in so many different ways.
 
Barbie was a big deal, of course.
From the Barbie camper
under my 8^th Christmas tree
to the plastic Barbie dream house
Santa brought my sister
(and I envied)
the picture perfect pink
idea of 'Home'
was imprinted in my heart
complete with picket fences,
keeping the good in and the bad out.

Although not a house specifically,

as a pre-teen I built forts along the creek
which ran behind our house.
My sister and friends swung across the creek
on the thick vine draped
alongside our homemade Batcave.
In the thick, buggy heat of
the South Carolina summers
we played Batman.
Bobby and Johnny were Batman and Robin, respectively.
My younger sister got to be Batgirl.
Being the oldest, I was Batwoman…
although at the time, I wasn’t convinced
Batwoman was a real super hero.
Eddie, the ‘poor’ kid from down the street
was always the willing bad guy
We chased him whether he was the Joker, Riddler, or Penguin.
Eddie drew the line at playing Catwoman.
I had such a crush on Eddie and
recall one summer he and I pretended
we were dating.
Batwoman and the Joker, an unlikely pair,
but we made it work
for a summer.
 
As I grew older, I made new homes.
 
In my late teens and early twenties,
my dorm room was a sight to behold
and a place for friends to gather.
I was the only one who color coordinated
the fold out couch, in case I had guests,
with the ribbon festooned grape vine wreaths
hung on the walls
alongside the Georgia O’Keefe prints
beneath the stenciled border
I had painstakingly painted
at the beginning of the school year.
A wicker rocker with a
pink, white, and periwinkle cushion,
so everything would coordinate,
rounded out the décor.
Had there been a tour of dorm rooms,
there is no doubt mine would have been on it.

In my mid-twenties, I met a woman I loved

and together we created a home
on our shoestring budget.
We were more broke than broke
and often laughed that we were too poor to use the full word;
so we would stop at ‘po’…
some weeks we were simply ‘p’
but we laughed often
and created a home with the hodge-podge
of furniture we brought together.
The lack of coordination troubled me,
but I made the best of it
and creatively decorated our home
often dragging home treasures found
in other people’s curbside discards.
It worked and, occasionally, I will
come across a knick knack from that time
and smile.
 
Happiness has a way of fading in the face
of reality, fatigue, and complacence
so in my forties I left and ventured out on my own.
In this, I created yet another home.
Colors bursting everywhere,
no two rooms the same,
warm and welcoming,
filled with trusted friends, laughter, and love
it became my nest, my haven, my home but
for more than a decade
in spite of inviting others to share my heart
none were deemed fit or chose to remain.

Until you came along in my fifties.

Our early conversations were filled

with hedges;
     If…
     Maybe…
     Some day…
     Perhaps…
Quickly though, the hedges were trimmed
and eventually, eliminated.
 
Conversations come more easily now;
     When we...
     We will…
     Let us…
     I do…
The walls are beginning to tumble down,
The demolition of impediments has started
and I realize,
I am no longer playing.

~ Mk Michaels, 2015