The sound of letting go

My mother keeps things organized. Our lives in labeled albums, Our showpiece house in designer paint colors Vacuumed, swept, so pretty that if you just looked You might want to come inside. But if you listened, You'd hear another story: Incomprehensible wailing, Shouting, urgent phone calls, Crying . You'd want to ask if a monster Lived in our house. I am not sure how I'd answer. Excerpted from The Sound of Letting Go by Stasia Ward Kehoe All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.