The Big H

Father,
My sister and I have set a date
For her untimely relocation
To our home in Wurtsboro Hills.

I remember being eight,
And we pulled up to the house
In Daddy's Chrysler.
My parents paused,
Surveying the house
From the car's confines.
Finally, Mommie spoke.
"Is this it?" she asked.
"What a dump!"

Mommie was the first one
To then fall in love with said dump.

The Big H,
The House on the Hill,
Became a summertime haven for
The four of us.
We were normal there,
Much more mentally and emotionally healthy
Than when we were in Brooklyn.
I would squeeze my childhood into two months,
Climbing trees,
Catching and releasing grasshoppers,
Swimming like a fish at the lake.
I would weep on the return trip to Brooklyn,
Bracing for the torturous school year ahead.

My parents and sister
Were ready to make the move there
In 1997.
I had moved out that summer
Under the thin guise of finishing
My last two years of college on full scholarship.
The truth, of course,
Was a much more disastrous affair.
I know that, in large part,
Because I stayed behind in Brooklyn
They didn't go through with the move.
I know my sister still holds that against me,
One of those unspoken resentments between us.

In 2004,
When I became mystery illness sick,
I went to the house with Mommie
For three months.
I walked the paths and roads,
Reliving my childhood
While my body slowly shucked off
The still-unknown malady
That had crippled it.
I personally know about
The healing qualities of that location,
The balm to body and soul provided
At one of my lowest life points.

The house has undergone many transformations,
Thanks to a home improvement grant,
A flood that destroyed much of the interior,
A second home improvement grant,
And the diligent help of friends
Who have kept a caring eye on it
During our absences over the years.
It's winterized.
Someone could occupy it all year long.

Many people have told us,
Especially after Mommie passed,
"You should sell that house.
No one is in it.
It's an albatross."
I must admit I had moments
Where I thought selling it would be best.

Now?
Thank God for the house.
Thank God that we didn't sell it.

Father,
My sister will be up there
Alone
This fall... This winter...
Who ultimately knows for how long.
Draw close to her.
Draw her close to You.
Bring her to whatever comfort she can find
In this home haunted by
Good memories and
Good energies.
Protect the house protecting her:
The heating system,
The roof,
The pipes,
The well,
The septic system,
And everything else needed to
Keep her safe and comfortable.
Show her the beauty found in nature.
Let her meet and connect with
Gentle, noble, honest souls
Who will befriend her,
Making her feel welcome and at ease.

Father,
Adalheid's favorite expression is,
"Everything happens for a reason."
Unfold Your Plans to my sister,
And illuminate her to see
The meaning and purpose behind
This unexpected detour in her life.
I trust You enough to throw
Alot more caution to the wind
Than ever before...
Help me convey and cultivate that
Within her.

Big H...
For so many winters
You have slept.
Awaken, now,
To welcome my sister
To her home...