I pulled up in a car beside the gray house on Grace Street in New Boston where Birdie used to live. I knew that Birdie no longer lived in the house, and that my mother was going to move in. It seemed strange being there after so many years. I knew Birdie's parents had moved away long ago, but for some reason I still felt uneasy there.

I was going to be in the area a few days, and I thought I might just sleep in the car next to the house while I was there. But then I thought that since my mother was going to be living in the house, there was no reason why I couldn't stay in the house. I got out of the car, walked up to the front door, and finding it open, walked on in.

The house seemed clean inside although there was no furniture. I stood in the front living room and could see though the house to the rear. All the floors were covered with linoleum. As I looked around, I recalled that I had never been through the house. I had only been in the living room once before. I walked to the next room behind the living room. On the side to the street was a bay window, which looked as if it would have been a pleasant place to sit. I walked on back to the kitchen and saw a large room adjoining it. I noticed how rich the woodwork was throughout the house.

I thought I might go upstairs to see what Birdie's bedroom had looked like. I had never seen it before. But instead I walked down to the basement. Right at the foot of the stairs I saw a small rocking chair which could seat two people. It had a strip of wood along its top. I pushed it to see if it would rock, and it did. The upholstery was worn on the seat. I thought it be longed to my mother. I thought it would be an interesting project to try to repair.

I also saw and picked up an old wooden lamp, which was missing the socket for the bulb. Apparently it was another piece of furniture which my mother had put down there and which needed fixed.

                                      ***

I had been on a bicycle outside the house and had pulled up on the back porch. I was in the process of putting a lock on the bicycle, when some children walked up. I spoke to them in Spanish (since I thought that was their language) for a few moments, then asked them if there were many thieves around there. Just as I spoke I noticed that a woman on the back porch of the neighboring house had clearly overheard what I had said. I thought she might think it was suspicious that I was fooling with a lock and was asking questions about thieves. She might think I was a thief. I turned to her and in a deep voice, I told her that I was my mother's son.

That seemed to satisfy her. I turned to the back door to go into the house, and noticed that it was partly open. I wondered if I had left it open when I had left. I didn't think I had, and I was concerned that someone was inside waiting for me. Just as I was about to enter, I heard music playing. I heard someone sing, "I've got love..."

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