HOW TO LIVE TOGETHER

It was late spring when we moved in,
The grass around the house had grown tall,
Some spots over my head, requiring a tractor to cut it.
While they cut grass in the front,
We rolled each other in a barrel,
Down a small hill in the back.
The neighbors came over,
First one boy around my age
Then another, older,
Then another,
Then a few more, 9 kids in all.
Some of the happiest people I’ve ever met.
When they sang “Happy Birthday”,
The whole neighborhood could hear them,
And their radiant joy.
It was infectious,
And sustained by a quiet discipline,
That all of us came to know.
When we would play together near supper,
Their dad would whistle loudly to call them home,
And wherever they were, whatever they were doing,
They would stop immediately,
And head home.
At times, some of us had not even heard the whistle,
And we would wonder what happened?
And they would just say, “I gotta go”,
This was just how it was.
There were rules.
Sometimes, on Friday nights I got to sleep over,
After dinner we’d all spend the next few hours cleaning the house.
Guests included, no exceptions.
Usually there was music on,
We’d work like a focused team,
Vacuuming, folding laundry, dusting
Everyone busy at something,
Then we’d finish together and go to the grocery store,
And pick up snacks,
And come home and relax.
It never seemed oppressive,
It was just how things were.
Rules,
And their own discipline to follow them,
Were the source of their happiness and peace.
It was a form of love,
And it was what held them together.