Tell me, Neighbor

Close your eyes neighbor, what do you hear?

Grandma’s calling ‘manja!’ Grandpa just waking up from a nap?

Children laughing in the foyer, Mom and Dad helping in the kitchen?

Auntie setting the table, the clinking of the silverware against the flatware?

Can you hear our conversations over dinner?

Laughing over old times, children asking for attention?

Grandpa telling old stories, little brother telling new ones,

Grandma laughing at forgetting the mashed potatoes, no use crying over spilled milk?

Take a deep breath neighbor, now what do you smell?

Dessert cooking in the oven, fresh turkey sitting on the counter?

The tangy smell of homemade pickles and cranberry sauce?

How about the stove crackling behind you, giving the room warmth?

She spilled the coffee, can you smell that too?

Open your eyes neighbor, what do you see?

All of us sitting at the table, the eldest, head of households at the ends?

An Italian meal spread across the table with candles in the center?

Happy faces all around, family not concerned over the cold weather outside?

Have a taste neighbor, what is that flavor?

Is it food cooked by love for a family to share?

Is it a traditional spread passed down from generation to generation?

Does it taste better with every bite until it all is gone?

Tell me neighbor is this what you believe how a house should be?

For Christmas, Easter, and every Sunday in between?

All are home, from the workers to the students?

Where are the ones that we lost during the year, is the hole filled?

Tell me neighbor, is this how you grew up?