Family Reunion

The old grey house has beenIn the family for over a hundred years.
Little has changed since
It was last occupied:
Crackled yellow paint in the kitchen,
Family portraits on the walls,
The claw-foot bathtub upstairs.
The front porch is where
Generations gather and sit
And eat on humid summer nights.
The back yard boasts
A burlap-sack rope swing
Hanging from the largest,
Oldest tree, as well as enough
Space to seat a hundred people
Around tables when they gather
For the annual family reunion.
From the children who grew up
In the house to their great-
(and sometimes great-great) grandchildren,
They gather around to eat and talk
With cups of pink lemonade
Or cans of Miller Lite
To quench their thirst.
The children (as well as many-a
Child-like adult) grab squirt guns
And water balloons in a yearly
Tradition of staying cool.
Then Great-Uncle Richie
Passes out straws and bags
Of little white beans and
The pea-shooting begins.
As the day fades away
And left-overs are brought
Out for supper, chairs are moved
To the front yard where
Ultimate Frisbee and
Tug-of-war are played;
Sparklers are lit and waved,
While ice cream is consumed
From the Dairy Queen across the street.
Darkness gathers, as gathered family
Slowly disperses until next year.

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