Leaving the Blue House

We once owned a home. Blue cedar planks with white shutters. The basement was limestone painted a brilliant white. The floor a enameled grey slate. Trees lined the edge of the property that overlooked the sea. We once owned a home that sat on a hill.
Mother forgot her pill.
Father loaded the truck. No more than a half hour fuss. We once owned a home. Now we can see it as we pass. Time has feet that will walk up the stairs. Mother said she no longer cares.