When I tiptoe into
Betsy’s Deep Valley home
Or Laura Ingalls’ dugout
There’s magic
And melancholy.
Long-Ago and Right-Now
Mix inside my heart
like oil and water
I seek
proof,
connection,
and solace
These treasures are surprises,
As miraculous
as discovering
artifacts in Betsy’s cellar
or a forgotten
slate pencil lodged
Within the banks of Plum Creek.
I grasp ghosts
Snugly trapped in time —
Forever bound in
Favorite books
I see Betsy and Laura —
They are as close as the Big Hill
And the ripples of Plum Creek —
But as far away as the moon.
© Lisa M. Luciano

Inspired by the Betsy-Tacy tour and because I also felt this when visiting Walnut Grove years ago (even though I was dressed in calico and a sunbonnet.)
Does anyone else feel a bit of magic and melancholy when visiting the historic place of a favorite person? Comments welcome 🙂
Word Prompt of the Day: SOLACE