Dorm Window

The scent of the pine trees.
Grounds I walked for four years long ago.
The musty dorm, it’s blond doors
And cabinets. It’s lava red brick
From its erection in 1905.
This didn’t look like my sister’s room.
The walls were not lavender.
No books, no musical instruments.
No gecko cages. Would she be happy here?

I remembered my first night. The ubiquitous room
I didn’t know. The stranger I shared it with
The temporary nature of college housing.
This room would never truly be my sister’s home.
Not for the kids who came before her.
Not for the kids who would come after.
She said she was ready. But was she really?
Her strong hugs goodbye to my parent’s and I
Said “no,” but she sent the view from her window.

The ponderosas and grassy court below.
The Victorian library across the street,
Beyond it the neon of Route 66.
This room would never be her home.
But home was just outside. She did not need
Big brother to protect her anymore.
She’d found the joy he found here years before.
Strengthening their sibling bond.