SAFEHOUSE

Every autumn 

the temperature drops enough

from dusk to dawn so that, 

in the early morning sun, 

the wall surrounding our picture windows 

softly, randomly creaks and crackles 

as its wood warms to the new day. 

It’s an oddly comforting, even cozy sound 

that makes me feel safe, protected, peaceful.

I remember hearing the same creaking 

when I woke up before the others,

went downstairs in my pajamas,

and sat in my grandfather’s lap

while he sat in his favorite chair 

by the big living room window 

in their little house out in the country. 

I remember hearing the same crackling

in the wall behind the radiator

near where my mother loved

to compose long newsy letters 

with flawless cursive penmanship

while sitting at her writing desk

in the nook beside the stairs 

that led up to the bedrooms 

in our big house in the little town

where I grew up.