The house where my
maternal grandmother was born
100 years ago was once brick
in front like the other houses
around it but had been improved
some years back.
The friendly old gentleman in #10
let us into his place
so we could see what it was like
inside #12. "Mrs. Moss would surely
let you in if she were at home."
Very narrow inside, a gray
memory tunnel, narrow stairway
leading upstairs; living room
in front, then a kitchen,
then a bathroom, finally
a tiny utilities room in the back;
no back yard, only a narrow alleyway.
My Aunt Alice said thank you
so very much over and over,
then sat in the rented car
and cried until she sobbed.