that every memory will remain although the place might change hands in early summer while grass begins to green and birds return to berry filled flight through trees
i know that memories of flight and pain and emptying of womb will rest in blood and bones and little feet padding through the house
that although this place might change, where little he learned balance and language and words strung together into years of little boy and little she emerged, covered in white and blood and sunshine
and little she leaned balance and language and words strung together into years of little girl
and baby she emerged, resplendent in the pain and agony of being, she made her way, quickly and quietly and where baby she learned place and time and smiling and laughing and belonging in a place of family
i think that every memory will remain, etched in blood and bone, in laughing and crying and wondering at the mercy of it all.