We have all done our best.
We respect each other’s space.
No one is in charge of anyone else.
We thought we were doing well, her dad and I.
But Rose says she can’t come home.
This house is full of ghosts.
Fear ghosts, seizure ghosts, sickness ghosts, struggle ghosts,
stains of sadness in every room, the carport, the yard…
We are not allowed to change anything in her room/The Rose Museum,
but she says can’t come back here.
I hate to admit this, but I get it.
The pain is still here, lurking but fading
in this haunted house.