Lady of the House

I lived in this house,
On this quiet cul-de-sac.
Had my beautiful babies here,
Watched them grow,
Marking each new inch
On the pantry door.
I made this beautiful life,
You can see my care
In every tile and panel,
Blooming in the resurrected garden.

Eventually my heart grew sore.
It took a few years.
The weight of
Perfection, devotion,
Responsibility,
Isolation,
It wore on me.
No one could see or hear my pain,
My fears, my
Waning existence.
I was so tired,
Persistence was
Impossible,
So I stopped.

Now my family is gone away.
Another and another and another
Have replaced them.
The current woman, she cannot
See or hear me,
But in her face I feel a shadow of
My own.
While her housekeeping leaves
Much to be desired,
I envy her persistence.
I wonder
If
Or
When
It will end.

This is day 8 of NaPoWriMo and today’s prompt is a nod to the autobiographical pieces that make up Edward Lee Master’s Spoon River Anthology. I think I stay true to the spirit of those monologues from beyond the grave—this one dwells a bit close to home.

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