It was going to be our stepping stone
from the red brick row house in the city with a cement patio and back driveway
to an aluminum-sided twin in the “burbs” with a fenced-in backyard.
Each move was meant to bring us closer
to the larger single home with a two-car garage we imagined,
but instead, the twin house on Carriage Drive became our forever home.
In this home, we hosted Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas Feasts of the Seven Fishes.
With folding tables and chairs, we packed in guests like sardines.
Still, there was always room for one more to join the chaos.
It is where the love of everything Philly shines with pride –
where yelling at the TV on football Sundays or at the Phillies or Sixers
was a common occurrence, but the love for the teams never died.
Here, our children learned to cook by watching their dad
make delicious dishes with the special ingredient: love.
Grandchildren come here for sleepovers with Nona,
to watch movies, make crafts, play games, and eat snacks.
It is my safe space to come home to at the end of the workday,
where the love of my life welcomed me home with a smile.
Now, I come home to an empty house, welcomed only by the memories,
but the memories are still so sweet, and I still feel safe.
Rita DiCarne 