This House: Memories of Autie Lila's on Michigan Avenue

 When I returned to Orofino, Idaho last week for the funeral of my aunt I spent time walking inside and outside her house.

Looking out the kitchen window I remembered summers of my childhood and could just hear cousin John's logging truck like it was yesterday, honking the horn  as he drove by.

Walking down the narrow hallway I revisited the timeline of family photos, the shelves of books, and the many knickknacks.

She loved knickknacks.

Sitting in the living room drinking coffee with family I remembered late night cookies, breakfast smells from the kitchen, and a house full of treasures.

This poem illustrated what a house can hold.

THIS HOUSE
This old house has seen the sunshine 
of many different years.
This old house has seen some happiness
This old house has seen some tears. This old house now seems so
empty
Since you left with last
goodbyes.

The smiles and talk, the
happy laughs
Echo above the lonely sighs Whether leaves are green in springtime
snow leaves lightly on the ground
This old house will hold the
memories
Of all the old families sounds.

Edna Howard White