THE LITTLE HOUSE BY THE CLIFF 

The little house has disappeared; you'd never guess it once stood
in the shadow of the cliff, where Water Street and Arch Street blend together.
Yet it served as the Rutkoskie home for thirty-some years,
a haven from the world outside, and a refuge in every kind of weather.

Each of the five stairstep children - from Audrey to Patty -
was born in the room upstairs, in the handsome four-poster mahogany bed,
part of the beautiful bedroom set that was lovingly purchased
by the new Mr. and Mrs. Rutkoskie
not many days before they were wed.
Every so often, Mommy and Daddy, as we called them then,
would linger together behind a locked door, desiring a romantic tryst,
till one of the five -- I know I took my turn -- 
would stand by the door as though lost and alone;
"Mommy! Daddy! Open the door!" we'd insist.
Such is the life of young parents; they bore it, as parents must do,
and dreaded the time when the children would leave
and they would again be "just two."

The house by the cliff stood on guard through the years,
while the children, one after the other,
started first grade, then suddenly graduated!
Audrey married Bob, Ted joined the Air Force,
I married Bill at nineteen, Carol got work in DC;
and Mom's baby, Patty, hesitated.....

Then Pat left too, to pursue his own dreams,
and Mom and Pop lived there alone
in that little old house with its memories tucked inside;
I long to visit that little house, to relive family times there,
but the house is gone..... and I am growing old,
my wistful thoughts denied.....

HOW GOOD and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity!
                 (Psalms 133:1 NIV)