Four walls and a roof protected me
from the cold and the rain.
A place where I slept at night
and left in the morning
for band practice or first dates
in high school.
While emptying the closet, I found the little pencil slashes lining
the inside of the door,
marking another growth spurt
and dated with a birthday.
The family portrait placed perfectly
over the dent in the drywall
secret to my brother and I.
I just finished packing up the car,
moving the last of the kitchen utensils
and my mother’s crystal.
Now empty, I stared through the threshold at
the coordinates for all of my
For some reason,
it felt like losing a friend.
Kirsten Magas is a fourth-year English major with minors in creative writing and journalism. KM867219@wcupa.edu