I parked in front of my mother's house <br />clenching my hands together, a Christmas <br />Nativity set burning on the front steps, shades <br />drawn. No one is home, I think. <br /> <br />My mother will probably wait five minutes before <br />she answers. My brother will be scrambling <br />for a place to hide away since we haven't <br />talked in months. And the dog will be barking. <br /> <br />The man across the street will be staring <br />out his front window, curtain in hand. <br />On Wednesdays his family brings him <br />a Meatball supper and boxes of pastry. <br /> <br />My mother will be <br />slow to answer 'Wait a minute.' or she <br />will just ignore the bell and stand frozen <br />in the kitchen, her shadow in angles <br />by the back door window. <br /> <br />If she decides to answer I will <br />be standing in the hallway, and she will <br />be rushing around, telling me she has <br />to go shopping or she has alot of things <br />to do. She will open her cupboard and take <br />out a bag of candy and hand it to me, <br />reminding me that things are tight this year. <br /> <br />Or she will not open the door at all, and <br />call me to say she was down the basement <br />washing clothes or asleep in the chair. <br /> <br />And the light on the garage will shine <br />on me as I walk down the driveway. <br /> <br />I will turn the wheel of the car towards the <br />street, my radio will be playing smooth jazz <br />as I turn the heat up to warm my hands. <br />And the old man will be staring out his window <br />as I slowly pull away from the curb.<br /><br />Louise Marie DelSanto<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nobody-s-home/
