Hill
steep
the hidden house
cement steps
dead plants-
un-watered, because they die
fresh sauce
cedar chests
lilac perfume
stale smoke
Persian rugs
floral velvet upholstered sofas
vinyl chairs
the china cabinet
green counter tops
cream and gold linoleum tile
Christmas-caroling electric lights
identical gifts, in pink and blue
my sisters' laughter from the other room
the quiet,
the security,
the boredom as the adults made conversation.
I was six
then sixteen,
and then we stopped going.
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