I’m not afraid of sacrifice,
To lose little things like space,
Places to put items that are “nice”
But that really don’t need a place.
I’d give it all up if I had to,
Every CD, every comic, every book;
There are things anyone would do
That you wouldn’t give another look.
In truth I didn’t lose that much,
Just a few shirts off my back
And other things that didn’t matter, as such,
That could all fill a big, black sack.
I lost a room and a flight of stairs,
Two things I’d sacrifice happily
In exchange for all the love and care
That comes with extending my family.
Author’s note: Some context for this poem. At the start of the year, my brother, his girlfriend and their baby moved in to my family’s house. I gave them my room. (Don’t worry, I volunteered – they would never have asked me to move out of the biggest room in the house.) I moved back into the box room from the attic.
We’ve never had so many people living in this house, and it’s wonderful.
Who knew the sound of a baby girl talking to her mother in the morning (well, not talking… she doesn’t have words yet) could be so great?