ALL FIXED UP

 

ALL FIXED UP

    Even when we don’t desire it,

    God is ripening.

        Rilke, The Book of A Monastic Life, I,16

After the For Sale sign came down,

his wife told him how much the house

had sold for. He didn’t ask her

how she knew, but then

the painters came, and after that,

the U-Haul. He saw them unpacking

as he rode by on his bicycle,

wondering how they’d like it, house

all fixed up like that. And he saw

the husband, the wife, and two children

that first night in the driveway.

I’ll bake them some cookies,

he said to himself,

and put a couple seedling maples

in a pot, write them a note,

which is what he did. His note

said, Your children

might enjoy growing with these trees,

but don’t worry about it

if trees aren’t your thing,

and enjoy the cookies. He noticed,

then, the wisteria had been torn out,

and the roses, too, were gone.

Maybe he said, Uh-oh, under his breath,

as he rang the doorbell. Following

the chimes, a voice answered

like a telephone operator putting

him on hold, before a man

opened the door, asking him

what he wanted. You shouldn’t have,

he said, but thanks. He felt dumb

holding the trees, knowing

all arrangements here were temporary.

Even the man at the door was embarrassed

taking the cookies, saying Thank you.

He didn’t say anything to his wife

walking home. He had no way

to tell her about leaving those trees

he had nursed through two winters.

His note to the neighbors felt so false.

Jim Bodeen

3-6 June 2023