There’s that one place in the house

that everyone knows to avoid.

At the bottom the stairs,

just to the right of the last step.

The children made the wood floors

worn and bare.

You can still see the claw marks from where the dog

slid to fast chasing them.

We covered it in carpet,

but the floor still made that sound.

C-R-E-A-K. Creak!

Followed by a thunder of footsteps up the stairs.

We could always tell when the kids would

sneak out and in.

That floorboard never failed to let us know.

We grew used to it as we grew older.

The old c-r-e-a-k c-r-e-a-k just as dependable as our marriage.

When he fell, the loud floorboard was

the alert that saved his life.

We never could fix it,

just like this house,

the kids,

My husband and I,

that old floorboard just fine as it is.