My White House
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My White House

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My white house isn’t white anymore!

My old house, now a light beige color
the new owners painted after they
bought it from my mom,
nearly two years after my dad died.

Dad’s death was sudden and unexpected
on that fateful day in April of 2000.
April 18th to be exact.
An unbelievable day I wish I could
erase from my mind forever.

I’ve passed by my white house
numerous times over the years
as it’s close to places I frequent.

My old white house was white.
Not just any white, but a pure,
clean, matte white color,
ever since our family
moved there in 1961.

How I loved that white house,
my white house
from the day we moved in,
the entire time I lived there
and even after I moved out.

Seeing it recently,
while no longer white,
whipped me into a reality
I did not want to accept.

How sad I found myself feeling
that my white house is
no longer white
and no longer mine.

Never to be my white house again!

Please leave your comments below. 

Read more by Marlene Wolff Solomon.

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  1. Marlene, I love this. I also loved our house from my youth. Whoever lives there now has changed so much. Even my mom’s garden is no longer there. I don’t like to go by it anymore. Your piece brought back my happy memories of that house. I bet others will feel similarly. Good job.

  2. Marlene, I can so relate to your poem. Sometimes I still drive by my family’s former house where I grew up. I wish I hadn’t had to sell it!

    1. Thanks so much for commenting, Diane. The old adage that you can’t go home again seems to be true and apply here.