Arriving at Night

I wrote this because, well, summer feels like it is finally here. And, part of our summer ritual was going to a trailer downstate so far out in the country that starlight was as bright as street lamps. We really enjoyed this time away. But, now it is a memory because the property was sold and the contents of our little trailer scattered. There are others, I'm sure, that also have memories, recent or from childhood, of a summer home, camp cabin, or favorite get-away place. Enjoy.

Arriving at Night

It was always a lot of work just for a weekend

and a long drive down, sometimes hitting traffic.

Arriving in a vacuum of darkness,

you fumble for keys, hidden, uncovering

leaf debris, shaking off cobwebs,

using the headlights of the car to see.

You pause, apprehensive—

What has happened to the contents since last there?

Has the fridge gone out? Did a storm drive in rain?

A musty odor arises from dank carpet,

stale, unstirred air smelling slightly of

desiccated insect wings and mouse droppings,

ladybug carcasses crunch beneath your feet.

You search for the light switch.

DVDs scattered, a plate in the sink,

a toy on the floor by the sliding glass door.

Everything as you’d last left it.

You hurry back, bundling the kids,

carrying their sweet sleeping bodies

close to your chest.