How many things have these walls seen?

They have watched me cry in my crib

      When I was too small to even wonder  

They watched me take my first step – 

They have seen friends come and go 

    But they haven’t seen what’s beyond the roof 

They have never seen the stars 

But they heard a song about them

for many years of my life 

They cradled my family as we sat near the fireplace 

They saw the dance parties –  fights, and the blanket of love 

     Like the snow from the frosty windows in the winter 

    They felt our tiny hands press the cold glass windows

     Making shapes and pictures from the frost 

But those pictures were gone in not less than a day 

It seems one day before the last 

We were chasing the cat 

    Or swinging a bat in the front yard next to the pines

They heard the tears and little children squeal with delight

They kept us warm and safe at night 

         And knew that I always liked to keep a night-light 

They saw my many plots and schemes 

   In my wondrous childhood world 

The toys given much love – the ones with the lost shoes 

   I wonder if they know where those shoes are now? 

   Tucked away in a corner 

   Or long gone in a dumpster from years ago 

The plastic shoes that will remain in those crevices

Long after I’m dead 

The ones a child touched with extra special care 

I wonder if they saw through the windows 

   The daring adventures in the woods 

Or maybe the expeditions made in the bush high snow 

    Did they see my mother take her gentle hands 

And bundle us up so tight in our winter gear 

   Did they feel the warmth she sprinkled into the hot chocolate she made with her little love hands? 

    Could they hear my silent thoughts and worries in the middle of the night?

     My dreams – ambitions – worries and frights 

Did they hear my dad and I cheer as we watched the Bruins game? 

     Yes, I have always been daddy’s girl –

      Some things stay the same

Did they see me and my family –

Decorate the walls of my room, with each passing interest and theme 

   First it was green, purple then green again

 Do they remember the pencil sketches my mother and I made of fairies on my bedside wall?    How I wished mine could be nearly as good as hers 

    Those pencil sketches that were meant to be painted, but never were 

Did they see me grow up? Did they ever observe my personality? 

    Feeling or quirks? 

The crazy girl with the unbrushed hair, 

Who was funny and smart 

To the insecure — sad — lonely girl 

To the smart, funny, kind girl, who I am today

Did they hear me singing in the closet, and creating my own world? 

Did they hear the piano as my brother played? 

Did they see all the hugs? What about those good night kisses?

Through the windows did they see me climbing trees, catching leaves 

   And making wishes on the dandelion puffs 

Did they ever smell all those home-cooked meals?

How I wish they could taste the food made with so much love 

And as the boxes are packed 

And the pictures frames are take down, 

Those frozen smiles that will long last 

My whole life packed away in a moving van 

How many years, so many years, in cardboard boxes now

And as I stand in the driveway for the last time I wonder, 

like I did all those nights since I was small

Can those walls see the invisible trail that Love has left?

      All over the yard and my home

Olivia Lipson ’25, Creative Writing Editor

25olipson@montroseschool.org