The Apples in My Orchard

This morning we cleaned, my son and I. We cleaned out his room and had much to enjoy!

Who knew it would be so much fun?

We laughed when we saw the dried-up tube of paint, its cap left slightly askew.

I jumped when a plastic spider was found in a corner and sent my way before I knew.

Loads of items discarded to save all but a few, crumbled papers, wrappers, and other

used before now,  placed in the trash bin to live on the floor no more.

Memories kept, those that meant something more.

A fun look back on artwork from years before.

But, it was the books that got me – those stories told cuddled in bed

with each of my three sons’ heads

peering at the pictures long before they read,

moved way to novels long before I was banished from

stories in bed.

I cannot dispose of these books,

I’ll store them away.

For someday, I hope, I’ll read them as I sway

in a rocker made with love by their dad and grandpa,

another thing that must stay.

In our family, there’s books and furniture and such,

our love encased by these solid things, but never as

much as those memories made.

So fun, with our son, his room cleaned out on a Sweet Saturday Morn.