I miss the womb of that magic house, walking its garden, a lush labyrinth of green, always here in a dream, running my hands along warm wooden walls, memorizing moments, abiding ancestors who call, long-distance, from the in-between. I yearn for the fruit: I can still taste the gooseberries growing down by the fence, smell the forsythia, Queen Anne’s Lace, the pine when I press my nose to the trees. I miss the womb of that magic house, walking its garden, a lush labyrinth of green, then up the path to your porch. Please say I can stay. I hear you, Grandmother, your laughter like daffodils in bloom. Every year older, I linger, held fast to our home, memorizing moments, abiding ancestors who call, long-distance, from the in-between. It’s been so long since I walked through the door, saw the plants hanging from macrame cords. Remember afternoon light shows from chandelier beads? I miss the womb of that magic house, walking its garden, a lush labyrinth of green, in dreams I yearn for the path under my feet. You smile like morning glories before your death, as you ask, what’s next? My fingers press gentle against your palm, memorizing moments, abiding ancestors who call, long-distance, from the in-between. You felt a pain in your ribs, an empty ache, a hunger for summer, for sacred space. When it came to age, you’d forgotten yours, your essence gazing out a bright bay window. I miss the womb of that magic house, walking its garden, a lush labyrinth of green, memorizing moments, abiding ancestors who call, long-distance, from the in-between.

Rosa Sophia is a candidate for an MFA in Creative Writing. Her poetry and creative nonfiction has appeared in Philadelphia Stories Magazine, Limp Wrist, Islandia Journal and others. Rosa was the winner of the 2023 Christopher F. Kelly Award for Poetry, sponsored by the Academy of American Poets, for her poem “Villanelle at 37.” She holds a degree in automotive technology and is the managing editor of Mobile Electronics magazine. She lives in Palm Bay, Florida.
Featured Photo by 2sometravel on Unsplash
